Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Master
by She-Who-Is-Not-To-Be-Psycho
Summary: I was one of those people displeased with book six middle chps ergo I wrote my own take on Harry's 6th year. Harry dwells of embracing his own darkness in the dawn of Sirius' death, and makes some unlikely 'new' acquaintances. No relation to HBP.
1. Warm, Hot & Cold

--- CHAPTER ONE –--

Summer at the Dursley's

That cold morning in the third week of the summer holidays was one of the moodiest in Little Whinging, Surrey, that Sunday. It had started with little crops, developed in a fierce rain, and was now displaying bright rays of sunlight that peered shyly thought the tiny kitchen windows at number four Privet Drive. The weather conditions were 'unpredictable' this July as it was, described as so by the Britain Meteorological Service. 

   Yet, what Harry Potter would like to believe made this day the strangest in his life was not the weather, but the absolutely awkward situation in which he was now introduced. From whichever point of view, it could only be described as abnormal: 

   Having breakfast, sitting by the table in the Dursley's small but cozy kitchen, and being served his raw toast, made by Aunt Petunia rather than himself, was definitely NOT an usual occurrence at Privet Drive. Reading news from the Wizarding World in the _Daily Prophet_ – the wizards' paper – by Uncle Vernon's side, while the last watched him warningly, peering thought the top of his muggle (that's to say no-magical people's) newspaper like he was bomb about to explode, but not quite commenting on him, was even more odd. (Not that he didn't look like having the intention to, Harry decided, as Uncle Vernon sneered at him for the eleventh time that morning and opened his mouth to speak but keep quiet the second, after taking wide gulps of air, like he had done all the last eleven times before that.) And to have Dudley Dursley, his big, fat bulling cousin, eyeing him in the corner of his eyes, above his over sized bone cheeks, looking like fascinated by the moving pictures in the front page, was downright bizarre.

   Harry would never dream, in his wildest, most impossible fantasies, to be in this situation at number 4 Privet Drive. 

   You see, Harry's only living relatives, the Dursleys, are a small family which love what they would call "normality" above all. So, as you might suppose, having their sixteen-year-old wizard relative in their same house was divine torture and so, of course, being-what-he-was was enough reason to hate him rotten. Or fear him, which was the case.

   Even being what he was, and having acquaintances that were it too, Harry thought they were mildly exaggerating. But Harry could not care less what was happening in their heads that sunny morning, as he turned the page of the Daily Prophet and came across the article he was looking for:

_FUDGE RUNNING FOR MINISTER OF MAGIC THE UPCOMING ELECTIONS._

_   Our current Minister of Magic, Mr Cornelius Fudge, is planning his re-election in the choosing of the representatives for the highest position at the Ministry, that are to be held next August the 15th. Fudge thinks that the Wizarding World would eventually understand and forgive his earlier errors and let him be of use to the community and the Ministry of Magic. The pools don't favorer him. Yet, the Minister is already planning his plans of action, and is willingly to take the job for another 4 years…_

   Harry snorted aloud. It was difficult to conceal the thought that someone will be dumb enough to vote Fudge after the whole 'there's no Voldemort' fiasco that he had carried out last year. The photo in the cover, though little, reflected just barely the embarrassment the Minister of Magic should have been feeling when it was taken, for the fine suit was torn in the edges and the Fudge in it was correcting his posture every two minutes. It was clear that Fudge would have to work a lot harder in his campaign this time to have people's support again. 

   Harry bit his tasteless toast while straightening the paper to read, ignoring his relatives' suspicious stares. He smiled to himself as he could feel the Dursley's piercing looks at him while he made as if he kept on reading an advertisement on cauldrons and diplomatic measures with muggles – so far, nothing more interesting on the Prophet.

   It wasn't secret that Harry liked making the Dursleys as uncomfortable as they did to him. They have made Harry's life impossible since he came to live in there sixteen years ago. However, despite having to endure being in his only living relatives' house at the moment, he was on a relative good mood that morning. 

   It wasn't many times that he could spend quality time with these people and actually enjoy himself. Not to say, downright impossible. Though, of course, having the Dursleys so freaked out about Harry's mere presence was quite helpful and entertaining; it had been quite a show the first week. Specially with all that looks over the shoulders, looking for a member of the Order of the Phoenix that could pop out from under the table, or out of the chimney (though, Harry would have to give them some credit in that guessing).

   But Harry was somewhat relaxed and contented, and he had to thanks the good sleep for that. He had been dreaming that he was falling backwards, with the icy cold breeze blowing at the back of his head, when, then, he looked up at the bright, cloudless sky and saw a thousand flying snitches hovering over him. It was an overwhelming sight. It was as if they were birds; light birds, or fireflies, being set free and flying eagerly in that blue, fine sky. Dancing hysterically to him, one after the other. Something in Harry's mind screamed; is the snitch, you had to catch the snitch! He tried to reach one of those tiny spheres of golden light with feeble fingers – his arms felt so tired. They were so close. He could almost touch...

   And then Uncle Vernon startled him by knocking at the door for breakfast. The dream had been so real that he had to wait several minutes to calm his breathing and stable his weak ankles; Harry had even been even sweating. It just remind him of how much he liked flying, and how he could not wait to be in the air again, given he had been deprived to do so last year, which he recognized as a great lost now that he had to go back to play Quidditch for the Gryffindor team.

   So that morning he had sat at the kitchen lazily; not having the least intention of doing any work, and getting up only when an owl bringing the Wizarding news appeared a the kitchen window. 

   Harry also had to thank his good mood on the Daily Prophet, as he was appreciating its change of attitude in its articles. The fact that his relatives didn't press him on about his lack of action (out of fear, Harry supposed) had not been as cheering. He had just found one at the top page explaining the prosecution of several Death Eaters that were found in the early June at the foot of the same building of the Ministry of Magic, at the Department of Mysteries floor. 

   As he turned the page he came across a funny looking picture which he didn't really dwelled about much as he started with the headlines, still a smile pasted to his face. 

   Harry made the three other occupants of Privet Drive jump in their chair and sent tea cups flying when, spitting this coffee all over the table, he stated, '_WHAT – _NO!'

   The commotion that followed the sudden outburst went like this: Aunt Petunia let out a cry looking outraged, Dudley cowered behind the table and Uncle Vernon started growling, 'BOY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU – YOU CANNOT –'

   But Harry had turned his hearing off and was reading the title of the article over and over again. And just to confirm his thoughts, on the bottom of the funny looking photograph was a small comment saying 'LUCIUS MALFOY FOUND INNOCENT. SAYS HE WAS SET UP AND NOW IS IN HIS WAY TO THE MANOR.' And sure it was that the picture showed a hooked Lucius Malfoy, trying to pull the silk of his coat in an attempt to cover his face while entering a dark-looking awaiting carriage in which, Harry could swear he had seen the snobbish, sneering, pointed face of his son Draco.

   Harry could almost curse out loud in frustration and send things flying to simply smash them to the walls, if not for the fact that he could not make himself believe it. His uncle was still rambling loudly in a voice that was much alike an old, noisy car motor that won't start for good; and Harry finally got the self control to shoot him no more than an angry glare that surely did his magic. Uncle Vernon, probably taken aback by this, shut it for a few seconds, giving Harry time for re-reading the article title that spoke 'Lucius Malfoy Free. Cleared Of All Charges.' 

   Uncle Vernon was about to found his tongue again when, this time, it was Harry who started, furiously, 

   '_How! I cannot believe it_! How they let that _man _walk free, they _found_ him there, with a Death Eater mask – surrounded by all other _Death Eaters_! How – _how on earth_ could he make it out – _free from all charges_!'

   He paced up and down the kitchen floor with the Dursleys looking totally lost, for Harry's raging mumblings probably came out like something totally incomprehensible to the them. 

   'Is the Ministry _daft_! How can they – _make that murderer walk free_! Stupid – _bribed_ – _FOOLS_!' Harry shouted with a range he hadn't found in the last three weeks, clenching the Prophet so hard in his hand Fudge's photo in the front cover cowered in fear as if he was in a tramp with two walls closing up on him. 

   Harry shoved the paper halfway tore to two away. Just then – and as Uncle Vernon was doing yet another attempt to tell Harry off about this shameful behavior – a soft hooting and a scratching of glass diverted Harry's attention to the snowy owl at the kitchen window. 

   'Just in time!' Harry beamed at his pet owl Hedwig. Letting her in the more comfortable atmosphere of the room, it took a matter of seconds to him to reach quill and parchments and start scribing frantically the names of the addressee. It was then that he realized the mistake he had made: Harry had already wrote the names 'Hermione' and 'Ron' down when in his haste he took the third piece of parchment out of his school bag. He looked down unfocusedly at the blank page feeling utterly stupid. A light shock made his hand quiver briefly, the quill touching the sheet feathery, barely scratching it. For a split second it seemed a lump at his throat was increasing in size and, prickling, tears were threatening their way out from sore eyes, pulling with all their might an extra weight at the front of his face.

   Hedwig's hooting at his side awakened Harry from his trance. Looking up Harry discovered his relatives quite unshelled, cowering in a corner, but he was quite unperturbed about it. 

The cold was biting up Harry's motionless fingers which now laid on the table as he paused to think properly. The window was ajar and letting new small crops in as the sky darkened outside. Harry looked up and down again, and started writing his letters.

   They both said the same: talked about the article, his frustration, and a quick note pleading for news, but he did not hope for much. All in all, the letters were written in which Harry would understand as a friendly-like style, with lots of unnecessary and quite pitiful comments like those Aunt Petunia made when talking to neighbors; apart from that, they were ok. Harry became truly excited by the prospect of receiving an answer with any bit of information that he could **make his hand on**.

   Harry made his way towards Hedwig, determined to get those letters to his friends as soon as possible – while hearing in the background yet not minding his aunt's upset whispering and his uncle's fuming mumblings that were becoming each time louder, so that Harry got a hint of what they were discussing, which was of course Harry himself. 

   When he reached her leg to fasten the messages, however, Harry took notice of something else tied to Hedwig's leg. A large, thick, yellowish envelope with funny writing at the top, scarlet sealand tied with a golden lace.

   While he stared transfixed to the paper in his hands, uncle Vernon asked, a sneer plastered in his face, something about being expulsed again and for good. But Harry didn't respond for he knew exactly what this letter was: 

   His OWLs' results. 

   Remembering just vaguely having received a request to send his personal or familiar owl to the Ministry with a sighed permission from Harry's tutor so he could pick up his results, but Harry recalled nothing about having them delivered back by wizard post.

   Without another word he run to his bedroom, closely followed by Hedwig, taking no notice of his uncle's old roar with his ever-so boring threats  that were, probably, the most common occurrence of the day. The last of the shouting died away (something about 'owls flying inside the house!') as Harry closed the door shut.

   Harry's little, uncomfortable room looked alike what he imagined were like the house-elf dens. Its appearance was probably due to the fact that it hadn't been cleaned in weeks, since he remembered, not one thing was in place and Harry had to admit it was starting to stink a little. Yet this place should be the closest Harry had for a sanctuary. 

   Once there, Hedwig sat on her perch and Harry in his bed, he fidgeting the envelope nervously. What if he didn't pass the necessary amount of OWLs he required to become an Auror? He supposed he'd have to choose another career; one that would fix his grades and capacities. He could imagine McGonagall's, his Transfiguration professor, disappointed expression if that was the case, gaining a plumbing sensation in his stomach that he easily recognized.

   Harry looked at the pastel material once more and found out most of the previous nervousness had washed over him all too quickly. He started ripping the material apart.  

   Inside, as he expected, was an extra short letter and his examination results. Harry threw the first piece of parchment (the welcome and advertising notice) casually over his shoulders and stared at the second letter that read:

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL EXAMITATION PAPER

Authorized by the Educational Minister of Magic:  Mr Mitchflick, Sloan K.

Wizarding Examination Authority:  Professor Marchbanks, Griselda A. 

Examiners:

- Professor Griselda A. Marchbanks.

- Professor Maximillian B. Tofty.

- Professor Tiberius Ogden.

- Professor Angeline C. Kartwide.

NAME OF CANDIDATE:     HARRY J. POTTER                           Nº: 347089

SECONDARY LEVEL AT:    HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF 

WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

   SUJECT:                                            THEORY:    PRACTICAL:      AVERAGE:

_. ARITHMANCY:                                           --                     --                     --_

_. ASTRONOMY:                                             /                       A -                   A_

_. CARE OF THE MAGICAL _

_CREATURES:                                                           /                       O -                   O_

_. CHARMS:                                                    E                     A+                  E_

_. DEFENSE AGAINST DARK ARTS:           O                     O                     O_

_. DIVINATION:                                             /                       P                     P_

_. HERBOLOGY:                                             /                       A+                  A_

_. HISTORY OF MAGIC:                                D                     /                       D_

_. MUGGLE STUDIES:                                  --                     --                     --_

_. POTIONS:                                                   O -                   O                     O_

_. STUDY  OF ANCIENT RUNES:_                 _--                     --                     --_

_. TRANSFIGURATION:                                A +                 E                     E_

CHART REFERENCIES:

_O: Outstanding_

_E: Exceeded Expectations._

_A: Acceptable_

_P: Poor_

D: Dreadful 

_-- : ( Didn't Showed Up )_

Harry read the results over and over again. He couldn't believe nor understand the fate that has given him an Outstanding at Potions. Was not that stunned about his grades Herbology or Astronomy, and was utterly pleased with himself about his other two _Outstanding_ 's in DADA and CMC. He also found it particularly funny his _Dreadful_ at his History of Magic examination; imagining Hermione's lectures when she found out. But Harry could not blame the examiners in the slightness: he was not paying attention particularly in the subject at that time… 

   That was because Harry had had a vision at that same moment… of Sirius being tortured.

   Memories started flooding back at him; memories he had work so hard in shutting down in the last weeks. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it. Harry spent hours daily just laying on his bed, thinking… but he didn't like it when his memories look like having a mind of their own and made their way to his head without warning, in the very least likely occasions, and Harry would never allow the Dursleys see him in his weakest. 

   Many times Harry thought he was about to cry. But the truth was, he never had… and sometimes he would feel guilty about it.

   Sirius Black was… he had been a great part of Harry's life. He was his godfather, but, moreover, he had been like a second father, and a very marked friend of his. And Sirius had been Harry's only hope of leaving the Dursleys, and to have another place to call home, a real home, before finishing school as well. Though Harry must admit that the life quality at the Dursley had dramatically improved an awful lot since his uncle's talking to the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Yet, so had every time he returned from Hogwarts. Harry knew he still wanted it so much to have happened any other way, to be anywhere else. Even if it sounded selfish.

And he wanted so much to have Sirius back from wherever he was. To have jumped behind the veil…

   The dark room was castingshadows that were both gloomy and soothing. It rained outside by now, which suited Harry's mood, and currently he felt a little drowsy. It was too cold and stormy outside to made Hedwig fly, and he was considering the last news, wanting to write something else in the letters to Ron and Hermione, but just then Harry could not find the might to do so. Hence, awaiting the sky to clear up, he dozed off into his pillow.

*

Harry awoke to the strong golden rays of sunlight that slowly peered though his bedroom windows. He felt a little sweaty, and cold in his left side area, contradictory to his right, and to the weather, if that made any sense. 

   Pulling the covers – which he remembered putting around him at some space at noon – off him he realized that he had over slept a little. It was past five in the afternoon, and Harry was starting to feel the alarmingly hot sunset. Someone must be messing up with the weather, he half-sleep thought, and covered his face with a pillow, hoping for sleep to take him back. 

   Which was quite a task, as he turned in his bed a high-pitched hooting reached his ears. 

   'Shut it,' he groaned half-asleep.

   But then it hit Harry that the hooting wasn't alike Hedwig's, and his eyes snapped open. And sitting upright in his bed Harry turned right to find Hegwig's cage empty but just at the top of the old, conked out bureau were sat not two but three familiar owls. And just another quick look made him realize that, of course, he had forgotten to close his window the day before.

   Pig, Ron's baby owl, was the first to jump down to Harry to greet him, flying excitedly over Harry's head. Pigwidgeon ('Pig' for short), though still the shortest of the three, was not much of a baby owl anymore though; it was by now a fairy large bird soaring frantically around, one or twice dangerously bolting to things in the room – Hedwig gave an disapproving howl that made Harry be strongly reminded of Professor McGonagall. Caching the jerking bird, Harry took two pieces of parchment, both a little bit too big for its still tiny legs, and started unfolding it while Pig shot to where the other two owls were, causing a small commotion over personal space. 

   The first note was, of course, from Ron.

_Harry, how are you mate! I hope not too worked up about grades, as I'm sure Hermione is. I just received my OWLs results. Mate, I don't know how I did it! I got 5 OWLs! Not like it's such a big deal, I mean, Charlie and Bill had done much better than me in their OWLs, but at least I've more than Fred and George. I wanted to send this letter earlier but Ginny made me wait; that with the rain, I am supposedly 'very mean' to pretend Pig sending mail. Like the little steroid-fed monster would drown that easily. _

      Anyway, I've been just keeping me busy. There's not much I can talk about, that with the… You-Know-What. So I don't have much news. Oh! I've had news from my dad about permission to bring you here. There might be a chance, thought there's nothing sure, but I'll try to speak to dad about that. Maybe it's a possibility…

Harry knew he was wearing by now a little smile in his face, knowing fully that the circumstances wouldn't allow him such luck. But, truly, Harry wasn't that disappointed, being honest with himself, he even preferred his current situation at the Dursleys to go back to the sad, dark rooms at Garmound Place, and that was saying something. As well, he wasn't that convinced either about going to the Burrow, Ron's place, and having to face the cheery (if true or not Harry couldn't predict it) atmosphere that Harry knew was awaiting him there. It was a larger responsibility be in the center of all the looks of pity that Harry was expecting in the Weasley's faces, having to put out with their attempts to cheer him up. It would get depressing to look forward a holiday without his friends, but Harry thought he just couldn't stand it just then; he needed time alone and just wished everybody would leave him be for a while. Harry never felt this suffocated, strange as it was, he was wishing to run away from everything and everybody he ever cared. 

Again Harry smiled unwarily when re-reading the last lines. With the Order of the Phoenix at stake the three of them must be very careful about their moves, and what they put on their letters, and Harry intimately thought that Ron was a little negligent commenting on the Order that way.

Anyway, I still didn't have mail from Hermione about exams. I just hope she doesn't start rambling about grades and how she could have had all Outstanding's if she had worked harder. And, just for the surprise; I had an A in Potions! Can't you deem that? The World must be falling apart!

      Well, and how are you? We don't receive much post from you nowadays; and when we do receive it you seem to not wanting to speak of anything just then. I won't push you around, but my whole family is expectant of your letters, and of having news from you. If there's anything you can say to make them a little less jumpy, it'd be a good idea.

   Also, I wanted to say, that I care for you too. As your friend – of course you could already say that my mother already adopted you as part of the family by now. Hermione and I are here and, well, if you want to talk about something, here we are. So, write back when you can. I hope you're all right.

Ron.

P.S. I'm sending a copy of my O.W.L.s results, my father insisted in proving a muggle macheen called 'copier' or something like it. Have fun reading!

Harry noticed the tone in which Ron was aiming to sound like at the end of the letter, and just felt mildly ashamed about the impulse to throw it away to the dust bin. Leaning even more in his own knees, Harry read the letter again, this time avoiding purposely the last paragraph, and took a look at Ron's results before starting with the piece of parchment attached to the second visitor. Harry could easily recognized Hermione's tidy handwriting.

_Dear Harry,_

      I've just received Ron's letter about the OWLs. I don't know if you received his letter yet. Good for him, don't you think? I still reckons he could have out a little more hard work into it. But it was fairly good all the same. I hope you have done well too!

_      Regarding my case… To tell you the truth I received my grades much earlier, but I could find the nerve to open them! I fidgeted with it for about two hour, went for a snack, to come back because I was so nervous I couldn't eat, and start all over again. But then I received Ron's letter and I told myself 'I couldn't have gone that bad'. And I thought of what you two would say if you could see me; afraid of some stupid letter, and I found the courage to open them and… I PASSED ALL MY SUBJECTS! I'm ecstatic about it! I had top grades in all my examination but in Ancient Runes (you remember? The 'partnership' error? I cannot even remember the word – But who cares!), and in Astronomy and History of Magic, but I wasn't paying much attention to it at that moment. I received two Exceeds Expectations for the firsts, but only Acceptable for HM. I still think it should had been a little more, but it's true that Ron and me finished earlier on purpose, that with what was happening then. _

_I must confess I was a little preoccupied about the practical part in Transfiguration, because of a little mistake turning the needles a different color, which I didn't commented earlier because I was sure you'd tell me something about 'just one error! Nobody cares about one single error!' But I got an 'O' in those all the same, I think they were a little unfair, if you ask me. _

_Oh, sorry, it's not like I want to rub it off on you or something, it's just that I'm so happy! _

_      So how are you? How did it go on the exams? Oh, I hope I'll be hearing from you soon, you've been quite distant this holidays. And I wanted you to know that we; Ron, as well as his family, the members, and I, are here if you need us. I know you must have not been feeling like chatting openly right now but I don't think you should be closing yourself up in there. We are still here. And we'll do anything to help you in anything, Harry._

_      I hope you're OK, and I'll be sending you Chocolate Frogs with next letter, Ron made me promise. Again, mail me if you need anything, and don't forget to write back!_

_Love,_

_      Hermione._

Harry rubbed his eyes. These must be Ron and Hermione's most extensive letters he had received so far (and, if talking about Hermione, that was saying something). But Harry didn't know if that was a good thing. Now they would be waiting or a similar well-lengthen letter like theirs, and he surely didn't feel like writing them one.

   Harry did add some comment to the previous letters, though; thinking he had disguised fairly well his mood so that it looked like the first and second part of the letter were written in one shoot. He talked about his grades and congratulated them a great deal about theirs, pointing out specially the great amount of luck which has given him his Outstanding at Potions. And that, really, (and despite the morbid intention his remark had) the world _was_ reaching its end. But, Harry thought, at least I'll be able to rub my Potions notes on Snape before, if I die.

   He didn't commented on, however, some other subjects in their letters that he found… not that nice. Like the mention of the 'You-Know-What' from Ron's part, or Hermione's 'We are _still_ here'. But it was also true that he could keep himself angry at no one anymore. Strange, it was; since in the previous year he could not find how to put his rage at peace, oppositely at how he was feeling now. It was like all his energy and feelings were being drained from him so suddenly he couldn't even start to be seriously pissed off. But Harry, most of the times, liked that. At least now he felt he could mildly control his emotions, to stop them from over-power him. 

   He tucked the two letters to Ron's and the Granger's owls, and let them took off before shutting his window down. 

   The following hours flew away fairly. The weather became each time cooler, the Dursleys' constant whining from downstairs eventually fade, and Harry just grew more and more tired. He didn't remembered sleeping so much in his life. Finally, after making one last visit to the kitchen to make himself something to eat for dinner, he went back to sleep.

   That night Harry dreamed about Hogwarts, the long passageways, and an enormous dog called Padfoot visiting him there. Later it was a shadow creeping out though a door, Harry twisted on his sheets, for a sentiment of hatred arise in his heart.

*

Harry coughed for the twelfth time a rainy morning of summer vacations.

   'Boy!' Uncle Vernon roared, 'Keep your kind's germs for yourself!'

   With a ham-fisted movement alike a wale's, Uncle Vernon cleaned his thick mustache with one rough hand. Harry thought he looked like a very happy child cleaning chocolate from his face, or at least a very happy 13-year-old Dudley cleaning chocolate from his face ('Like father, like son' chanted Harry). Whichever the reason was, the wale beast has been in an unnerving delighted mood since he stepped in the kitchen.

   'Dear Petunia,' he asked with an overjoyed twinkle in his small eyes, 'This bacon is absolutely delicious – What did you do to it?' he asked like he was truly interested.

   'Actually, it's Mr. Green's usual bacon – but I think it was conserved better in the fridge this time, despite the weather.' Aunt Petunia answered equally polite, but quite missing the joke in Uncle Vernon's speech.

   'Really? I could never have guessed.' Uncle Vernon said and Harry could make out a malicious glint in his eyes. Probably because he had realized what Harry tried to ignore and deny since the start of the day.

He was feeling miserable.

Harry's nose dripped and prickled uncomfortably, making him sneeze every five seconds, sometimes three or more times in a row. His head pounded painfully, his neck felt dumb and his chest sore. It shouldn't be nothing more than a cold but every time Harry coughed he was sure he was about to bring this internal organs though the mouth.

Aunt Petunia, though in a different way, looked quite self confident and cheerful too (Maybe it's contagious, Harry dared to presume). Dudley seemed to be the only one not getting a clue about anything as he seemed too concentrated in his bacon sandwiches and juice to pay attention to anything anyway. But Harry knew that, if Dudley confessed, it would come as no surprise that it was him that made Harry's present situation as it was. Of course, that morning, like the lot before it, Harry took a rather long bath; like he did nowadays that Uncle Vernon's constant telling off about using all the hot water was little problem to Harry, because he didn't care. And it could have been an eternal one, if only Dudley hadn't picked up a new way of amusing himself and pissing Harry off all the while. Once Harry was in the shower, Dudley would keep pulling the toilet wrench, which had become a common ritual to him, making Harry freeze. And if Harry complained about it to his aunt or uncle, they would say he was just being stupid; 'Dudley wouldn't do such bad jokes,' because 'he has better taste than that'. But Harry suspected they approved it, and were proud of their son's behavior. Probably, Harry thought, they thought this as a "perfect" way of making Harry suffer as their wrath; in other words; this was not only Dudley's, but their revenge. 

So, this time, like the lasts, Dudley made his way to the bathroom and Harry's only warning was the sound of the toilet being flushed. And, of course, he didn't even contemplate telling Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia about it.

The kitchen was quiet, yet it sounded to Harry like he was in the middle of the Quidditch stadium in the Championship. Even the turning of Uncle Vernon paper's page felt painfully sonorous to Harry. Since he woke up he had been fighting to put out with the buzzing in his ears, which was such that he could not make out his mind if it had any relation to real sound. And, of course, the Dursleys weren't helping. Harry just wished to be somewhere, almost anywhere else… It was a wonder to Harry if life in the Burrow could be more noisy.

It had been two days since Harry received his O.W.L.s results, and that he had mailed his friends about stuff. But he didn't received answers yet. He knew that it was dangerous to send owls too regularly, specially the same owl to one place. Owls could be tracked, and times were extremely dangerous to hope for quick mail. Irregular post would have to make Harry contented at the present time.

Harry tried to focus, to think of something else, but just think was unbearably painful just at the time. He sneeze again, this time with two fingers pressing at the top of his nose, from beneath his glasses, trying to stop it show. With not much avail, the table shook slightly and Harry let out a soft moan alike a purring. He looked up expecting his uncle to yell at him again, but only found the man smiling, showing fully his contentment about Harry's misfortune. Even so, Harry was grateful it had been that way and he relaxed in his chair. It was only natural that his uncle would ignore him to read the paper, but Harry found disturbing the amount of attention he was receiving from his aunt.

'_What?_' he asked pointedly looking at her, gaining that her eyes divert to some space near the fridge or the window, and an itching sensation in his throat. He cursed in a barely audible whisper while he toyed with his food. He wasn't really that hungry any more.

His eyes wandered to the table, where Aunt Petunia has purposely left opened a catalogue about talismans; highlighted with red marking the photo of one a lot alike a stone hanging from his aunt giraffe-like neck, it had a familiar shape. The catalogue read: 

'HONRUS EYE_: Anti-Curses Amulet. In the Ancient Egypt people should protect themselves from the dangers of the Evil Eye, symbol of envy and hate, hence, talismans with the shape of a beetle or such were popular among the Egyptians about 200 b.C.. The most trusted and likely to find in many of the Egyptians' doors was the _Honrus Eye_, which attacked the source of the evil itself. Money, power, friendship, family and love are protected by the magic of the _Honrus Eyes_, and it gives you the wits and cunningnecessary to achieve your ambitions.'_

   The first thing Harry noticed was the inaccurate description: first, for talismans and amulets weren't the same, and second, true amulets won't do more than defensive work, never attack. And Harry was not a great fan of History of Magic but he was pretty sure the dates were wrong too. Regarding its appearance, Harry doubt it would be any better than the Evil Eye itself, and the latter actually suit the Dursleys. All about the amulet, despite maybe the protection thing, was a lot Slytherin-like, who would have such bad taste as to buy that thing, even if they feel threatened enough?

   Harry looked up to his aunt. What was most amusing of the scene was her fidgeting with the amulet, while wearing a "secure" sneer in her features, probably trying to look threatening. Though Harry also noticed the trembling pulse with which she was taking the repulsive item and the recurring looks of unease that were hidden behind Aunt Petunia's eyes. Like she was observing an animal at the side of a "dangerous" sign. Maybe, Harry thought, she was expecting him to become something alike a wild beast that would react to the stone hostilely, trying to bit her hand off, and Harry was very temped to set her imagination free.

   As he tried to bit and actually enjoy the over-toasted bacon that he was barely achieving to eat, Harry's ears started ringing again, sounding higher at his left ear. Harry rubbed his temples, lifting his glasses which had become much more uncomfortable and heavy, to his view. He tried swallowing, and regretted it at once, as his sore throat wouldn't allow the passing of food no bigger than an inch. He coughed, and at that exact time he felt like sneezing. There was only one thing that would make Harry's current situation worse and it was having Uncle Vernon in his wrong side just then and, judging by the extremely awkward situation there was a truth about it: this was going to result in disaster. 

Starting his search for some juice, feeling his eyes water, Harry made it to his empty glass when he knew was too late. Harry knew he must have been making quite a show, feeling his face turning purple, and Dudley was finally paying him attention by pointing his face while laughing uncontrollably. Harry felt the glass in his hand tremble, having time only to cover his mouth and to mentally curse his luck before the inevitable.

'Eww!' Harry heard Dudley squeeze out, at the same time when his aunt's shriek. 

'BOY!' Uncle Vernon growled while lifting from the table, probably from nausea.

Of course Harry was smart enough to move his head to the side so the nice view over the floor wasn't displayed on the table instead. That didn't help, of course, Uncle Vernon's upcoming shouts that were about to become a potential help to his headache.

'GET UP –' Uncle Vernon roared while hauled Harry up from the neck of his shirt, and maneuver it without stepping in the pool of puke under their feet – Harry wasn't that lucky. 'GET UP RIGHT NOW! AND CLEAN ALL THAT – HORRIBLE AMOUNT OF YOU FROM MY FLOOR!' he said, shoving Harry to the kitchen washstand.

Harry washed his hand that had resulted victim of the toast disaster, took a hankie, and advanced towards his wasted breakfast, all the while observed reproachfully by his relatives. It seemed the previous terror atmosphere was fully vanished from the Dursley's; now they were just coming back to the typical situation of bulling Harry to his death.

And, of course, this suited the Dursleys a lot.

'And I'm warning you; if I don't see that the floor sparkling clean it would be no lunch for you,' Uncle Vernon growled, his eyes twinkling with malice, as Harry let himself plop to the floor in his knees in a painful thud, his stomach still revolted. 

Harry tried swallowing, expecting to pull the remains of the sickening sensation down his throat, he felt so tired he didn't thought he wouldn't be able to stay awake. But, on top of it all, which annoyed Harry the most was the ringing in his ears that has reached an unbearable high after Uncle Vernon's yelling and was piercing a hole in Harry's head. Some time during his cleaning in his painful position of standing his own head and shoulders' weight, Harry felt the noise become something alike background whisperings, unknown voices resonate along with the sound of the clothing in his hands wiping the floor and the cutlery. Harry didn't realize reaching up to his forehead to scratch it, but became aware of something in the murmuring all around. The sound seemed to be coming from just above him, at his right, and there was something else… Looking up, Harry became face to face with his aunt's horse-like head, and it became clear that the sound he was hearing was Aunt Petunia's voice.

'_Getting out… with – own weapons,_' Aunt Petunia's voice was extremely hushed and quick, Harry got just the hint of what it said. Again she was fidgeting with the stone in her neck.

'_You think… just can,_' Harry heard, and as he did, images started popping out in his head, in which he thought he was seeing a toilet and lip stick. But Harry couldn't get a clear image, ('_…boy… think I cannot –_') and he became more interested in something else: as Harry perceived the strange attempt to maintain eye contact with him from Aunt Petunia's part, getting the complete picture, Harry realize she wasn't really talking. Aunt Petunia wasn't even moving her lips.

'_WHAT ABOUT THAT_!'

Harry felt as if he was awaking from a dream. All of the sudden the buzzing, though not completely gone, had dropped in volume. His ears, however, were aching a lot because of the imaginary Aunt Petunia's deafening shout. 

'Done there?' came derogatory Uncle Vernon's voice. Harry looked up to Uncle Vernon's face just a second before the ringing became louder.

Turning back down, Harry went back to scrubbing the floor recklessly, despite his throbbing head. The buzzing persisted, it contrasted to the strong thumping in his chest.

When Harry was done he allowed himself some minutes to rest, panting, on the floor. He remembered the hard way about his soiled shoes, because he had sat just on it, dirtying his pants along. 

Aunt Petunia must have felt Harry's tiredness since she said, 'If you're done with that you pick yourself from the floor,' Harry was sure, as a way to annoy him. But, not wanting another row with the Dursleys, Harry relocated himself to clean the old second-handed pants and shoes, all the while avoiding looking up. 

He wasn't expecting the amulets Aunt Petunia bought by catalogue to work somehow, and wasn't that convinced it was the amulet's job what has made him heard or see what was not there. 

Once done Harry considered taking a chance peeking up. But he thought better of it, gathered himself up and made his way to his room to change his clothes, intending to put an end to his misery for that day. Yet, the day was going to be a long one, and the afternoon would be a lot worse. 

The Dursleys wouldn't stop bossing Harry around, shouting at the top of their lungs every time Harry passed by them just to aggravate him. Twice he had to cover his ears in his way to the kitchen for more tissues. 

The Dursleys lowered and later turned out the heater (it was, supposedly, too nice outside to be wasting gas) so that it was freezing all over the place. Harry was made to stay in his room, covered in all the blankets he could find, trying to warm up his bed. Meanwhile his coughing was going quite bad, he locked himself in the bathroom quite some time fearing another accident like that morning's, and then a little more to annoy the Dursleys as well. 

And Harry had the little brains to hope as he tried coming up with his need for a doctor, but the Dursleys meant to lend no ears whatsoever.

It was coming to be a ruddy dreadful day, that one. That was what Harry was thinking while he made his way to his old cupboard under the stairs to draw some more blankets and clothes, watching Dudley and Uncle Vernon sat comfortably in the lounger in front of the TV, laughing at their favorite show. Aunt Petunia has just reappeared from shopping in the mall. Harry involuntary coughed.

'_SHUT UP_! _I want to hear the_ _TV_!" shouted Dudley to Harry, rather exaggeratedly.

'Now, now, Dudders,' said Uncle Vernon in a falsely calming voice, 'no need to waste your breath away, you're going to upset your voice – now,' he spoke up while he took the remote from the night table besides the coach, and next the volume of the TV was four times higher. 'There.'

_'…And now, it's for free! The Cleaner Kit is now available at stores at this incredible prize! Buy now and you'll get our –'_

'_Vernon_,' called Aunt Petunia, deafened by the sound, 'I need –'

'WHAT? _I CAN'T HEAR YOU_!' Uncle Vernon called back. The program has started again and Dudley was laughing his fat ass off, spitting pieces of his sandwich all over the carpet. The situation was unbearable, as Harry looked up for things in the cupboard as fast as he could with one hand pressed against his left ear, unable to hear his own thoughts. He couldn't make out his mind if the ringing he was hearing, a lot alike a radio frecuency, was coming from the TV or from his own head.

At some space it seems Aunt Petunia has taken control of the remote and turned the volume down ('Hey!' Harry heard his cousin complain) and soon she was talking to Uncle Vernon about their muddy front steps.

'OK. I'll take care of that later, Petunia,' said Uncle Vernon lazily as he rise the volume of the television again.

'My Diddykins,' Aunt Petunia addressed Harry's cousin, 'Would you help me with my shopping.' Dudley seemed downright horrified that his mother would deprive him of watching his show.

'But I'm in the middle of Car Crash Unlimited!' Dudley complained. 'Make Harry do it,' he added smirking at his so clever idea.

Aunt Petunia looked at Harry apprehensively, who just ignored the whole situation because he was too occupied in stopping the maddening coughing. Turning to Dudley again, Aunt Petunia said, 

'I won't have that – that thing and his germs near our food. Now, please, Dudly –'

But Dudley didn't seemed to be giving up his case any time soon, and he started winning.

'Now, Dudley, don't be a pest and help your mother. I'll take care, though we could let the rain to take care of the mud – WOULD YOU STOP THAT NOISE!' Uncle Vernon turned to Harry, whose coughing was choking him, even so he stopped trying to quiet it. By this time both his uncle and aunt were sneering at Harry across the lounge, and Harry could almost presence the start of another loud scolding.

But the aspect of it took yet another turn when, this time, it was Dudley who coughed.

Aunt Petunia gapped horrified, both hands now covering her mouth, and Uncle Vernon's face was draining of color but for his usual purplish tint. And so Dudley coughed again.

'Ah, my baby – you feeling all right?' Aunt Petunia fumed over Dudley, her hands disappeared under his extensive chin, 'Oh God – Vernon! Vernon, we have to call a doctor!'

'Of course – of course, Petunia. Don't worry, Dudley, I'll bring a doctor in a minute,' said Uncle Vernon putting on his coat – 'No, I'll get you the _best_ doctor, Dudders. Not to worry, not to worry.'

'Hurry up, Vernon!' Aunt Petunia articulated taking yet another look at Dudley's dead-like, naturally-yellowish face while Uncle Vernon disappeared though the door. Jealous git, Harry thought while looking at his cousin's pained expression, so idiotically it was it made Harry be reminded of the two most stupidest blocks at Hogwarts', Crabbe and Goyle. Just then, to Harry's dismay, Aunt Petunia looked up at him and Harry knew in that instant he should have flown away time ago instead of watching the show.

'Give me that blanket!' demanded Aunt Petunia, getting to his feet, meaning the one Harry was wearing over his shoulders, 'give it!'

'No,' Harry retorted with an awkward nasal voice.

'What did you say?' asked Aunt Petunia looking murderous. 'Give me that now!'

'Get another blanket for you,' Harry challenged while he got out of her way, his hands gripping the material with the strength he had left. But Aunt Petunias was besides herself and drove to seize the sheets. Harry dodge her first but the second time she made it to one edge of the blanket and wouldn't let go. They both pulled from both edges, Harry advancing to the stairs. He felt the other side pull harder rather than see, as Dudley joined to help his mother, his face lit with amusement – it seems Dudley had already forgot he was supposed to fake his illness. 

Having reached the stairs Harry used the handrail to help himself but it gave Dudley the chance to get to him and push him hard enough he loose his grip momentary and went down. The hold of the sheet at the very last moment had been what kept him from falling painfully at the foot of the stairs. Yet, he was getting quite tired of this silly game, his head was throbbing agonizingly enough, thank you.

Thus, he let go of the sheets.

Harry never would have guessed that Dudley's heavy body would take so much to hit the floor but was twice as funny seen Aunt Petunia's face as she was being dragged downwards by Dudley.

Harry only had time to hear the loud thumping in the floor before running to his bedroom, as far away from the two of them, and blocking the way in once inside with every furniture and object in the room. He knew only too well he had just gotten himself in a mess but couldn't quite feel regretful about it. Hearing the last of Aunt Petunia's shouts die away, as it seems Dudley's condition was more important at the moment, Harry sat in his bed, his legs feeling dumb and his mouth dry threatening another coughing fit.

'Nice one, Harry,' he said in a barely audible whisper to no one but himself.

Carefully wrapping another blanket around him, Harry had just minutes to settle down before a thumping at the window caught his attention. Not surprisingly, Hedwig was there, poking in the glass rather hysterically, soaked from head to paw.

Harry hesitated only a second before letting her in, knowing fully as he did so he was allowing all the coziness that was left in the room away. A itching smell of blossomed hydrangeas and damp grass reached Harry's nose from the outside, Hedwig's soiled wings stink being the only thing stronger. 

A feeling of guilt, and a well-known feeling at that, eat Harry's stomach from in to outside. He had been reckless for not noticing her absence and leaving her out with the stormy weather in the first place. 

'I'm sorry, Hedwig,' he said as she perched herself on his shoulder shaking slightly. 'Now we are both going to be ill,' Harry guessed laughing heartlessly as he patted her. 

Hedwig wasn't carrying a mouse or another prey as she generally did. Only when Harry finished drying her with the pillow clothes and tissues, did she ventured to her cage to drink some water. 

Harry was now to wait for Uncle Vernon to be filled in by Aunt Petunia and Dudley about Harry's reproachable behavior, and to be punished consequently. It didn't go unnoticed to Harry that this was his chances to get a proper prescription from a doctor, a very well needed one. Yet, in his aggravating situation it was difficult to assertin anything but the fat chances that would permit Harry to be graced with odds of Dudley lending his doctor to him. For two long hours Harry was left to his contemplations.

At the first sound of movement downstairs, Harry jumped out of his bed. His mind was numb, swirling wearily; even so Harry was sure to put the remained energy and tolerance to good use. 

'_Oh, welcome! Welcome!_' Aunt Petunia annoyingly shrieking voice traveled to Harry's ears, '–_ See, Duddinkins? Vernon brought the best doctor! The best doctor only for you!_' 

'_My pleasure, I'm sure_,' Harry barely heard a stranger's voice say under his breath.

 '_This is Mr Clockwise,_' said Uncle Vernon sounding quite proud of himself. '_He is one of the most highly qualified doctors of the Faculty of Medicine in London._'

'_Not that much so,_' Mr Clockwise appeared to be a quite serious, business person. Harry intended to have a look at him but from this position on top of the stairs, peering though the door, he was unsuccessful. When touching the space just before his navel, Harry could feel bulges so big he was sure she had grown two additional balls in his throat. Or, as well, you could say his skull was in the upper part of two life coats, it made it difficult for Harry to title his neck to the sides.

'_You cannot believe the hospital!_' complained Uncle Vernon agitated, the rustling of his coat in the background, '_No one would come immediately! With a young boy's heath at stake! Lucky Doctor Clockwise overheard me,_' he addressed the man in his most self-satisfied tone.

'_Would you like something to drink, Mr Clockwise? Tea maybe?_'

'_No, that won't be necessary, I'm on a rush,_' Mr Clockwise spewed out quite indifferently._ 'So you're Dudley Dursley then. How is it that you're not in bed? You're supposedly very ill, for what your father recounts._'

Ha! Let's see how you go though this one, Dudley, Harry thought.

 '_Ah, how irresponsible we were!_' Aunt Petunia spat truly horrified while, again, Dudley tried to pull up his cover of the coughing fiasco. '_Of course, you have to go to bed! Silly, we were, Vernon. Let's go to your room, Dudley – Vernon, help me here._'

'_Er, yeah – of course, Petunia,_' came the muted reply from Uncle Vernon's part, partly hidden by the sound he made clearing his throat, not a minute enjoying the implication that Dudley's illness might be his fault. Uncle Vernon laughed nervously before spitting out, '_yeah_… w_e were, Petunia…_'

Uncle Vernon made a funny noise again. 

'_C'mon, Dudley – up you go…_' he said, his tone deceiving the would-be secret discomfort at being scrutinized by the man in his living room.

'_All fault of that infected freak… sickening my Dudly…_'Aunt Petunia mouthed aloud. 

Uncle Vernon was heard clearing his throat once more before uttering from the corner of his mouth, _'Petunia!_'

Harry here leaned a little more in the edge anxiously to listen better, now that he has been mentioned. It could now be perceived the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs along with Dudley's false coughing.

'_And who would that be?_' it was heard Doctor Clockwise's deep, grave voice question Aunt Petunia.

'_No, no. We were talking about a dog – the neighbor's dog._' Uncle Vernon responded.

Harry tried to stretch to see them coming but with no avail; Uncle Vernon seemed to have perceive Harry's intentions and had reached the top of the stairs first and blocked Harry's view with his extended body.

Meanwhile Mr Clockwise must have sense Uncle Vernon's uneasiness when the latter overtook and stepped just in front of the former so abruptly, because Doctor Clockwise asked, 'what's it, Mr Dursley?'

Harry acted a second too late, so Uncle Vernon had reached Harry's room door and pushed it closed before Harry was able to get out.

'Nothing, nothing at all,' Uncle Vernon responded though a overly obvious nervous smile. Harry started to panic when he heard the sound of keys.

'_Let me out!_' Harry shouted forcefully knocking on the door, if at least he would be able to call Mr Clockwise attention…

'What's that?' Doctor Clockwise asked.

'Nothing,' Uncle Vernon spat at once.

Harry took advantage of his uncle's adverted attention to push at the door open for a moment, but didn't succeed in walking out, nor paying a lookat the stranger. He was pushed inside his room yet again.

Before Doctor Clockwise could muter a word Uncle Vernon responded the unasked question, 'nephew – trouble boy. Always causing problems…' 

'Let me –' Harry started but in that precise moment he was target of another coughing fit. It was opportune, Harry decided, because then he would let Mr Clockwise known about his situation.

' – _ejem_… Yes, _as I was saying!_' Uncle Vernon's loud exclamation hardly covered up the sound coming from Harry's room. But Aunt Petunia, unconcerned, intercepted the conversation rescuing Uncle Vernon.

'Don't pay attention to him,' Aunt Petunia said a little too loud and stepping forward, passing by Harry's room. '_That_ _vandal_ is always being a pest – Now, if you follow me, this is Dudley's room…' 

Harry could hear movement outside, he was being ignored. However, he couldn't call after them, the coughing was, if possible, worse than ever and was chocking him helplessly. No! Harry's mind screamed, Clockwise couldn't fall for that! His heart beats rose a level in volume and speed, Harry almost didn't register Uncle Vernon locking the door. Harry was despairing. 

And then the glass of water in his nightstand broke. No, "break down" was an understatement; it blew up so high the pieces of glass reached the roof. But as it did, Harry, in his knees on the floor, as able to calm himself down and felt the air in his lungs again.

For seconds there was a silence in the surrounding the Dursley's knew not.

'BOY! YOU STOP OR I'LL CALL THE POLICE!' it was Uncle Vernon who shouted melodramatically. 

'SEE!' Aunt Petunia cried louder than ever before. 'Shameful behavior! C'mon, Mr Clockwise, don't waste your time –'

'Indeed.' Clockwise agreed, and that was the last comment Harry heard regarding himself as he slumbered down tired.

But it wasn't the last he would from Doctor Clockwise. 

Dudley's baby whining could be perceived two blocks away in the vicinity and was easily discerned by Harry, who now laid in his bed awaiting to be unlocked. His muscles felt weary, as every time it's too hot outside and his blood pressure got down. But it was still raining outside and a light but cold breeze made it though his closed window quite easily. Harry decided he would wait for the weather to clear up before sending Hedwig with a letter. If he was going to die in the hands of a common muggle cold better let his friends know, and he would be able to make his last wishes, talking about being melodramatic.

'Strange…' though the thin walls Harry heard Clockwise mouth from the room next to his.

'Wha – what's strange?' Aunt Petunia was at the verge of tears.

Mr Clockwise took his time to respond, the four slowest second in the Dursley's history, 'Nothing… nothing at all.' Clockwise seemed to barely matter the Dursleys uneasiness, he put his glasses back to his pocket, 'actually, I don't see anything wrong with his boy's health, regardless of maybe his uncared dental health.'

This didn't humor the Dursleys, who have grown expectative far too large and, to their view, they went through a very great lot of troubles bringing him there. And this was easily read in Uncle Vernon's next words, 'what do you mean, nothing at all?' 

Harry could have laughed but that only brought him spasm, so he contented himself by smiling broadly in his bed.

'No, nothing at all,' Clockwise said as nonchalantly as someone that was talking about the weather. (Harry's smile widened.) 'I'll go to fetch some instruments from your husband's car, if you feel is necessary, to be sure. But I'm convinced what bothers your son isn't much more serious than a regular cold. And modest indigestion.'

An uncomfortable silence had risen upon the last comment.

'Well? Go,' Aunt Petunia pressed onto Clockwise bossily. At Clockwise's first movements towards the door, Aunt Petunia added, 'Vernon, please, help Mr Clockwise there – and bring all the instruments you need,' she called out after them.

Harry made one last attempt, this time intentionally coughing, which wasn't difficult, when Clockwise went by the door. It only earned him his aunt's furious knocking at his door, and a hypocritical '_oh, shut it. We know you're faking._'

However, after Clockwise came back and did all the tests in the book (and after Dudley gutlessly refused to be injected a needle), he claimed that he had to go, promising them to pay a short visit for improvements – or luckily lack of – in the imaginary illness.

That night the Dursleys sleep in a tense atmosphere, not one of them feeling happy about the events of the afternoon, and in the aftermath of it were quite clear the Dursley's grumpy mood by next day. 

Aunt Petunia, for one, shoved the plates and glasses around the table carelessly and didn't eat but kept putting condiment to her food. Uncle Vernon, on the contrary, ate like a famished dragon, three plates on a round. 

'Pass the juice, dear,' Aunt Petunia's statement, despite the sweet tone, showed that it was an order more than a request.

The heater was at its highest, Harry was sure that wasn't healthy either. 

'Go fetch the paper, boy,' Uncle Vernon commanded. Harry was pretty sick of the Dursleys calling him that. Boy? He should be already considered a man, he was taller than Dudley and almost as high as Uncle Vernon after all.

Harry's attention landed on Dudley, who looked horrible. Gray bags hung under his eyes, his face was paler than usual, his slightly pinker nose seemed a leaking faucet. Dudley was practically drooling on his food, though Harry could only see little of it from the entry hall, as he wasn't allowed in the kitchen anymore for fear Harry's germs getting Dudley. 

At some space at night it seems Dudley did become in touch with his character of the ill one, cause he looked quite sick, and his coughing were a little more credible.

'Mum,' Dudley winced, 'I feel bad…'

'Then eat your food, Dudley,' Aunt Petunia said curtly.

'BOY! I told you to pick the newspaper up!' Uncle Vernon spat angrily.

'_Mum…_' Dudley agonized in his pool of misery.

Harry had already risen to the door when he heard his aunt gasp, 'he has a fever!'

'Let see,' Uncle Vernon with a frown laid his sweaty hand on Dudley's forehead.

'We should call Doctor Clockwise,' Aunt Petunia alarmed, and somehow happy.

Uncle Vernon looked apprehensive. 'Maybe another doctor –' But Dudley was coughing again and Uncle Vernon abandoned his case. 

By this time Harry reached the door, but when opening he regretted it at once. It was freezing out there, it made Harry's neck hairs stand on end. Harry crept out from the house to the outsides, barely hearing his uncle's complain about he, Harry, being irresponsible to let the cold in with Dudley seriously ill. If Harry had the might to he would have sighed, why didn't he considered playing dumb and not getting out in the chilly wind at all? Why was he doing this sacrifice for the Dursleys?

His fingers dumb, Harry picked the paper up, said newspaper already wasted, soaked in mud as well as the steps behind, then something kicked Harry hard on the guts. Looking to his right he saw Mrs Figg's house.

'Of course!' Harry's mind screamed, he could ask Mrs Figg, his cat-lover, squib neighbor for help. She was there in Dumbledore's orders to guard Harry, she would be able to contact Dumbledore or someone from the order who can make a potion or something for Harry. 

Harry run heartily towards Mrs Figg's house, the dirty newspaper still clutched at his hands. Reaching a window, however, his stomach swirled with disappointment. The windows, covered in dust, were closely shut and all lights inside were putted down. Confirming his thoughts, when Harry knocked at the door no response came out. 

With a feeling of defeat, Harry retreated to the Dursley's. When pushing the door open Harry heard the last of Uncle Vernon's telephone call to Mr Clockwise. Uncle Vernon must have felt the icy airstream from the door, for he still interrupted the conversation to yell at Harry, meanwhile Aunt Petunia was asking her husband for help to carry Dudley to his bedroom. 

'In a minute dear,' Uncle Vernon said and then dismissed Doctor Clockwise rudely. 

An idea occurred to Harry; barely having the time to, he shoved the paper in his hands to the carpet and stepped outside once more, shutting the door closed before Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley made it out of the kitchen. He would wait for Doctor Clockwise there, in the cold and muddy steps, before anyone else can stop him.

*

Hours went by and no one had showed their faces in all Privet Drive. It was no wonder, for not a soul would dare be out in such temperatures. The streets looked like a sole graveyard, just one solitary silhouette sat at the front steps of number four.

   Harry had resolved into doing some marching back and fort to keep warm, it looked like trembling down there in the steps wouldn't do him any good. But after a while even that was useless, if anything the weather was going cooler the minute. 

The wind blow hard on Harry's face, just the glasses kept him from blinking every two seconds. The sneezing had vanished time ago, probably due to the fact that his nose felt out of order for the day, but the coughing fits returned with fierce range and Harry had problems breathing the cold air. The ringing in his years were replaced by the sound of the cold squall going by his ears and his stomach hardened and doubled over quivering. Not one part of Harry's body seemed to be safe from the icy storm's doing.

Shivering, Harry brought his hands to his mouth to feel the warm breath over his hands, and the same hands all around his body to thaw up. When bringing them to his forehead it had the opposite effect of cooling up, seeing that was still the hottest part of Harry's body. All of Harry's skin was being bitten on slowly and painfully though his thin clothes, even his head hairs looked to solidify up there.

Why wouldn't Doctor Clockwise come? Harry was dying and the bloody doctor wouldn't grace Harry with its presence. 

Harry was contemplating giving up at last when he thought he felt something round the corner. A frosty mist has risen, Harry stood waiting, although he still could not see well. 

Finally, the light of a car appeared within the misty scenario, so feeble Harry could almost confuse it with a lighting bug. Harry let himself grow hopeful against his regular luck. However, just down the front door steps Harry made it and he only just registered the Dursley's door opening before he was pulled forcefully back inside by his necklace. 

Uncle Vernon hadn't looked so perverse in his entire life. 'You thought you could fool me, eh?' he said with a twisted smile behind his chunky mustache, morbidly enjoying chocking him while dragging Harry in. 

Harry tried to fight Uncle Vernon, the last thing Harry saw before he was shoved inside was the car parking and a figure getting out of it. 

If Harry hadn't been so tired he would have been able to get out of his uncle's grip in a minute, he would have hit the man's face with all his might. Uncle Vernon handle Harry like a puppet in his state, and found only one place to hid him before Doctor Clockwise could see Harry.

After six years, panting, Harry returned to his dusty old room, the cupboard under the stairs.


	2. Ride to Wicked Pocus

**H A R R Y**

**P O T T E R**

**And the Master of Hogwarts**

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

All right reserved; the following its not by any means

original publication of the Harry Potter series and, therefore, is an excuse for the

using of J. K. Rowling's characters to entertain one solitary soul with nothing better to

do; which also means that the reproduction of this material is not

illegal and/but downright useless.

First Published some minutes ago, in Rosario, Argentina, in 2003

Original Harry Potter works

Copyrights © 1997-2006 J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter original series, names and related indicia are

copyrights and trademark Warner Bros., 1997-2003™

'Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Master',

part of 'Missing Pages' series, Harry Potter fan fiction,

plot and original (I would like to believe) ideas are property of

She-Who-Is-Not-To-Be-Psycho!™, and the author do not takes responsibilities

on the moral-destroying intention that her story can cause

if the fic is taken by the wrong hands.

And by that I might mean you.

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS OF THE 5TH HARRY POTTER BOOK;

HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE FENIX.

* * *

–– CHAPTER TWO ––

**_Ride to Wicked Pocus_**

Little did Harry care about Dudley's situation; compared to his own Harry was sure it was heaven itself. He didn't even bother to listen to any sound, for it along with his frustration and disappointment were turning his headache into its largest extent.

The last of the sound coming from the other side of the little door was only enough to tell that Doctor Clockwise seemed a lot happier and helpful than yesterday, and maybe a little anxious, in fact he sounded like a total different person.

As the last of the sound fade away, Harry pondered in his little first room how he ended trapped there, again. It felt like he was back a four-year-old. His nose, though seemingly disabled, was now itching, omen of sneezing fit, and no whipping seemed to be enough to calm it down. Still shivering Harry tried standing, but the cupboard was too small and Harry had no option but to uncomfortably curl with his knees pressed to his chest to try resting.

Like other previous times Harry allowed his mind wander over the 'what if' questions that often leaded him thinking of Sirius. He has already decided that the only reason he wasn't running away from the Dursley's was the blood protection, and that wasn't much. He entertained the idea of tying and locking Aunt Petunia up in the closet and send Uncle Vernon and Dudley far, far away.

Jus by sneezing once the ground seemed to shake below Harry; his back ached with the pressure of the wall behind him, as well as his stomach did because of Harry's legs. He wasn't feeling any better, Harry resolved, and actually was kind of sick of looking for the bloody doctor like a crazed fan. He could take care of himself. He didn't need this stranger, nor the Dursleys; nor Dumbledore, for babysitting. That was the most Harry needed to know; he had gone though worse thing and had the strength enough to go though this stupid cold without all them and was very well going to.

Harry kicked the door from his position at the floor and a good lot of dust fell over him – and so his iced foot ached under his shoe. Cursing out loud in frustration, Harry tried to cover up under his arms, both the coughing and the sneezing about to restart. With each spasm the little cupboard quivered dangerously as if it was going to crack any minute. It barely held Harry in, he should be careful not the break it down…

But why should he not?

Enlightened, Harry started to kick the door furiously, as expecting to rip it apart. It didn't, but it wasn't that difficult to push it open. Now hanging from one hinge, Harry looked at the gaping exit feeling torn with embarrassment for his previous stupidity and proud for the results. He jumped out of the cupboard:

Harry was now able to hear sound coming from upstairs and considered his options. He had already said he didn't need the doctor, and now going after him looked truly stupid. His head wouldn't stand more yelling or just sound of any kind, especially if that kind was the Dursley's. A little dust that reached Harry's mouth alerted him from the coughing now hurting more than ever; his voice sounded faint and humming and a strong bubbling formed in his chest with each contraction – still Harry was obstinate in downright ignore it. What was in his reach now and feel like doing was pouring himself some tea for his sore throat.

Harry thought he must be looking like a real looney, sitting wrapped in kitchen tablecloths and doilies by the table. It turned out not to be such a clever idea, his, for the hot tea rather than helped provoked a worse state of coughing. He spited his own blood in his hand, leaving a metallic taste of blood and raw meat that wasn't due to his lunch – he hadn't had anything. Clockwise took a lot more to examine Dudley this time, sounds of things falling and conversation erupted much more frequently than last time (Harry though Dudley was probably putting some resistance to needles again). But the buzzing restarted maniacally worsening Harry's headache and he heard no more.

Harry tried calming down and that way the coughing wouldn't hurt so much. When cleaning the dirt off his eyes they prickled painfully – he had resolved into taking off his glasses that had become a really uncomfortable weight at the moment – both closing his eyes and gulping forcefully. His nose was dripping though whippings, his eyes watered, and the sickening sensation in his stomach told he would do well to lie down... Now.

So Harry made it to his feet highly troubled by his exhaustion, the smell of blood reaching his nose. He tried to suck some air but only succeed in upsetting his lungs with yet more spasms as he went though the hall door and came across clear voices that had been resonating all around the house.

'No other visits you sure?' Uncle Vernon asked from behind the tall hazy silhouette in the front of the line down the stairs. But then Harry heard his uncle and the stepping go silent and Harry could tell the two blurred outlines were looking at him.

Harry didn't realize they were so close. While trying to clear his eyes, Harry kept going his way to the stairs, once or twice swaying to walls. He wasn't expecting Doctor Clockwise to speak to him.

'_You're OK?_' Clockwise asked bending just a little to reach Harry's level, and while doing so Harry felt a shiver down his spine. Now in front of Clockwise, even without his glasses, Harry could take some his features like the dark hair in a pale skull. All that looked oddly familiar to Harry.

'Doctor Clockwise –' Uncle Vernon tried.

'Not now, Mr. Dursley,' Clockwise cut him off and Harry felt himself go white. His Potion professor wouldn't be here, acting the doctor, would he?

But Harry was sure he was to die from shock when he felt two large hands at the sides of his head, and then at his forehead and chin.

'You're heating up!' Harry heard Snape's voice mouth sounding actually concerned – Harry was surely dreaming, he must be – 'We have to take this boy to a bed,' the same voice ordered and Harry felt arms hurriedly pulling him up the floor.

'But – Clockwise,' Uncle Vernon started again, 'I told you – we agreed –'

'Dursley,' Snape said, the volume of his voice dropping several levels, 'you go and prepare this boy's bed now, _I won't repeat it,_' and with that he dragged Harry to the couch.

Uncle Vernon, though taken aback, recoiled to the stairs, from which Aunt Petunia squealed horrified.

Both gone, the man in front of him put a great deal of effort making Harry comfortable, dragging pillows Harry was sure he had seen him levitate or summon. Harry sized the opportunity to draw his glasses from his pocket and put them on. Undoubtedly the face that greeted him was no other than professor Snape's, eyes wide-opened in alarm.

Harry jumped two inches on air.

'Lie down,' Snape ordered and Harry was twice as tense as before. And as if that wasn't enough to freak him out, Snape's always sneering visage offered Harry a comforting smile.

That was it.

'_Who are you?_' asked Harry, a little louder than he intended.

'_Shh…_' the man quieted Harry and, after looking behind his shoulder, smiled again, 'What? You don't recognize your Potion professor?' teased this Snape now smiling broadly.

Sounding stupid to his own ears, Harry asked breathlessly, '_What bug bite you?_'

At this Snape laughed heartily. _Laughed?_

'Ah… _Poor Harry_,' "Snape" said fatherly, ever to confuse him more. Harry had had enough.

'Professor Snape?' Harry asked frowning.

Smiling again, "Snape" said, 'Close enough.' And next Snape's face started to contort awkwardly, his nose seemed to melt and his hair… _her_ hair turned purple.

'Tonks!' Harry said before beaming back at her.

Tonks' head just stayed that way long enough to wink at Harry before turning back to the ill paleness of Snape's face, going back to her complete disguise.

Harry's smiling face turned into a frown. 'Why didn't you use –' Harry had to stop to cough, remembering his angry throat, '– your face – _why Snape_?'

Tonks, now in Snape's features, smiled sympathetically (Harry awkwardly avoided seeing "him" in the face). Instead of answering she handed Harry a handkerchief, pointing a spot in "his" chin. 'You have blood – here.'

Harry parched the right space under his lips, still feeling the smell and taste of his own blood. For a moment the emotion to find Tonks had been cheering enough to make him forget about how horrible he felt.

'Oh!' Tonks reacted and dived for things at her bag, reaching for two little bottles, they resembled the ones Harry remembered suspecting of venoms in his first year when going for the philosopher's stone. It looked like the kind of thing that Harry would find in Snape's storeroom in Hogwarts.

'Drink up,' Tonks said after taking one brief look at them, handing Harry the two bottles. Harry hesitated but finally did, convincing himself that it was Tonks and not Snape who was giving them.

The first tasted of wasted marshmallows and before Harry could ask Tonks had already pulled off the cork and shoved the second under Harry's nose (which smelled and tasted worse).

'Gaak – what _are_ them?' Harry asked between labored breaths. Coughing painfully he felt like returning the concoctions back right there.

'Tranquilizing and Disswelling Draught – they should work in a minute,' Tonks said closing on him, Harry felt frustrated she won't get to her original form instead of using Snape's.

At last, Harry started feeling the air back in his lungs and all his body stopped aching, the last of the ringing faded. Tonks sighed.

'Good,' she said, 'I'm not very good with potions. I almost feared I didn't hear Severus' instructions correctly to tell you the truth.' She slumped to the tea table, almost cracking it. 'Ups… sorry,' she sighed again. 'You know he was here yesterday, Severus I mean.'

Harry didn't feel like answering, so he let her continue.

'Well, it was his time on guard duty,' – that felt like a kick in the guts to Harry but still didn't comment – 'That's why I've to take his form, he made up something about being a doctor,' Tonks said stretching slightly. 'I've to say, lucky he had these stored – I'm not that good in remedial potions.'

'I feel good now, though,' Harry intercepted, the last he would like was to have the real Snape at the Dursleys.

'Yes,' she mused and stared at Harry. 'Well, I still better take a look, should I?' she said going though her bag again. 'Those things won't stop the sickness, just the pain – Here,' she spat when taking an instrument Harry had never seen before. It was solid and large as a pencil and from one edge started a string that seemed to be alive.

'Now, open your mouth,' Tonks said lifting between two fingers the thing with the string snaking from one place to another.

'You have to be kidding me,' Harry pleaded looking at the object anxiously.

'No. Why?' Tonks looked at the instrument quite lost. 'Look,' she said seriously, 'I know I'm a little clumsy but I know what I'm doing. I didn't become an Auror after all without having fairly good grades in Magician Medical Care.'

Tonks was seeing Harry in the eye severely, though Snape's eyes. Finally, Harry agreed, though the whole inspection avoiding Snape-Tonks' gaze.

The string went down Harry's throat while Tonks looked though the other edge as in a telescope. After pulling it back up, she threw the thing away and examined Harry's eyes and pulse. Then she picked another tiny bottle.

'For the fever… I think you have the worst state of Angina Pectoris and Influenza I have ever seen,' she said, and then looking at Harry's expression: 'Which is the difficult way to refer to sore throat and common flu. Don't worry! Magical medicine can take care of that rather easy – though we still haven't found a cure for grippe, to tell the truth.' She smiled. 'Your cousin seemed very fond of our penicillin, though.'

Harry couldn't suppress a smile back.

'Was he really sick? I thought he was faking,' he voiced.

'Yes, he's recovering, sad to say,' Tonks offered a little laugh.

'_Doctor Clockwise_,' Uncle Vernon called. Tonks had to shut her smile forcefully.

'A minute,' she called back and then whispered to Harry, '_I don't know what was Severus thinking when he chose such name._'

She helped Harry up, and it was then that he thought about it, 'You were guarding me, from _where_? I saw Mrs Figg's house –'

'Yes,' Tonks said quietly. 'Fudge made her move, that with her being a squib. We aren't the only ones watching after you, Harry; the ministry is too; so we can't move freely anymore. They figured about the spy-webs last month. Made us take them away...'

'But how did you –'

'Hey, don't worry, as long as you're OK,' Snape's face beamed at him. 'We gave these persons a false number now. They'll be able to call us –'

'But it's false,' Harry said frowning. 'So…'

'We have the telephone intercepted,' she informed him. '_And a good excuse to visiting now_.'

She whispered now that Uncle Vernon was near, '_I'll ask Severus for special potions for your treatment –_ Mr. Dursley,' Tonks addressed doing her most to imitate good enough Snape's sneering posture. 'I'll have you know that I plan on visiting my patients shortly for improvements.'

'But you said Dudley was –'

'Both patients,' she said curtly. Tonks' scowl was achieving a vivid accuracy.

'I see,' Uncle Vernon looked fixedly at Harry. He then smiled proudly. 'Oh, the room is ready –'

'That won't be necessary, I've already seen this boy,' Tonks said and Vernon's expression seemed to fall. 'But that's very good, now Harry can rest.'

'Right,' Uncle Vernon said nonplused. 'So, how much do we owe you?' he asked, Aunt Petunia now by his side.

'That would be just two hundred and ninety-five knut – I mean,' Tonks felt Harry tug in her shirt and mouth through the corner of his mouth, 'pounds.'

Aunt Petunia's eyes and mouth snapped open, unable to talk, she looked like a constipate giraffe in her cheap yellow dress. Uncle Vernon's hand quivered clutching Aunt Petunia's.

'Just the necessary to pay for the… medicine and stuff,' Tonks said uneasily, probably fearing she was using the wrong words.

'Of course,' Uncle Vernon said, his eyes fixed at some point in space, 'medicine… right…' He patted his wife's hand in assurance. 'Just… let me get my wallet.'

Uncle Vernon's face missed several colors as he went to the desk in the little hall where Harry knew the Dursleys counted their expenses and brought out a checkbook. Aunt Petunia shivering went to him some time later, clenching her apron in her hand so like expecting to tear it apart.

This gave Tonks the time to get at them as if she has wanted it since forever. Snape's voice snarled under "his" breath angrily, '_You wait till Dumbledore hears what these monsters did to you. None of us – you wait_…'

Harry tried warning her about of the ridiculous quantity of money she was asking, but before he could muter a word she was clearing "his" throat irritably.

'So I'll come, say, tomorrow?' Tonks said. She looked murderous. 'I could come regularly.'

Uncle Vernon gulped.

'You know,' he said, 'you don't have to come again, really, Doctor Clockwise.' Uncle Vernon had adopted a sickening polite tone and unpleasant smile.

'Oh, but I _do_ want to,' Tonks said, now a twisted smirk in Snape's features. 'I wouldn't deprive you of positive assurance that all the members of this family are OK.' She put a hand on Harry's shoulders as she said so.

Harry would have liked she hadn't because now the Dursleys were looking at him as if he was the cause of all their problems.

'Well, I have to go, now,' Tonks said. 'Harry must rest and drink liquids, and the other boy should on the contrary do more exercise.'

The Dursleys didn't find the remark funny. But Tonks did not intend it to be so.

She leveled herself to Harry's height and handed him the Anti-fever potion. 'Remember to take just a drop every eight hours,' she said, Harry wished he wouldn't have to make eye contact with Snape's deep gaze, it was unnerving.

Tonks straightened up and glared at the Dursleys.

'Mr. Dursley, Mrs.' She bowed her head.

And next, she was gone. Harry didn't realize until it was too late that he should have asked a lot more before letting her go. What has been of Ron and Hermione, and when would he be able to get out of there, if he could. What was he supposed to do until the end of the summer holidays or if there were any news from Voldemort's attack, and such.

Both Vernon and Petunia Dursley were staring Harry like summoning all their self-control not to strangle him.

'Er,' Harry tried, 'Doctor Clockwise said he would not charge anything more to you,' even to his own ears that sounded little convincing, ' – next visits are free.'

But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were already fuming about the bill, throwing furious glances at Harry's direction while doing as if they were too troubled with arranging the pillows to their correct places again. They made as if Harry wasn't there; while never mentioned, Harry knew they were silently blaming him the excessive price they had to pay.

Harry went upstairs unconcerned. What did he care if the Dursleys hated him even more, nothing new would come of it. At least he was feeling okay and the Dursleys didn't stop to shout at him. Nor his remaining cold bothered him any more. Actually, he felt fine, finer than he ever remembered being.

Nothing would prepare Harry for what he saw when reaching his room, however. His ever so chaotic room was neat and tidy, and smelled of Aunt Petunia's rose spray for the bathroom. It seems the Dursley were so ashamed somebody would see Harry's mess they cleaned all up before Doctor Clockwise could see it. Just one thing was missing…

'Hedwig!' Harry cried out when hearing her. He went directly to the old dresser to find her and her cage under the mass his clothes, carelessly shoved inside.

She wasn't happy, the moment Harry let her out she flied around like trying to get something out of her feathers. It took several minutes to Harry to calm her down, and she didn't look like about to recover fast enough to make a deliver.

Tonks already knew Harry's situation, and from what she tells, Harry's self ware was already watched over by many. By the Ministry and Snape. It only mildly amused Harry this was his life, with his friends close and his enemies' closer… Tonks' visit now looked like a sad distant memory from which to feel nostalgic.

'Stop it,' he said to himself, no use getting depressed about nothing, there are worse things to worry about.

Tell me about that, Harry responded his own thoughts.

'_YOOOU, MUGGLES!_'

Harry woke up with a start. His heart beat twice as fast it should, distant yet furious, as thundering shouts inundated his ears. Harry could tell they weren't common yelling. The walls trembled and floor rocketed under Harry with the explosion-like sound that Harry recognized as a Howler.

Quickly, Harry took off in a run downstairs, still a little sleepy; his first thoughts were that the Dursley's had accidentally open a Howler for him, and now the possibly important information was reaching mistaken ears.

However, as Harry went down the stairs, though the hall and pulled open the kitchen doors, the incomprehensible loud racket started to make sense to his ears. The Durleys cowering in a corner and several howlers suspended in the air shouting barely fathomable choruses of complain greeted Harry.

' – YOU SHOULD FEEL ASHAMED!'

'HOW YOU _DARE_ DO THAT TO OUR HARRY!'

'WE'LL GET YOU –'

'YOU _BASTARDS_!'

Harry grasped Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Ginny and Ron's voices making the whole picture; Harry never thought he would feel grateful to hear a howler in his life, much less a whole herd of them.

Looking down Harry could see smoke fuming out from the dust bin. He tried to reach it but it was too late, with a deafening bang another howler flew open, it was from Mr. Weasley, but his message got lost within the many shouts around the house.

' – BETTER BE ALL RIGHT,'

'I SWEAR!'

'GREAT AMMOUNT OF –'

' – INCONSIDERATE, YOU –'

In the midst of all the noise Harry thought he felt Uncle Vernon shout at him, Aunt Petunia and Dudley both crying in fright. While it was truly scary the hearty insults to the Dursleys, Harry was actually enjoying it beside himself, the ambient of terror only increasing the excitement of the moment.

Finally, it started to quiet down, the last of the voices giving the sighed names. Theses Howlers had been the largest and most furious ones Harry had ever heard, and much more than intimidating.

The kitchen grew silent. The three Dursley's expression of terror was priceless.

'Never ignore a Howler,' Harry informed cheerfully.

He had been sent to his room shortly after that, Uncle Vernon's growl loosing his threatening touch because of the fear.

So again in his room, Harry laid down. So the Weasleys know about the last few days now, he pondered Tonks must have told them, and Harry imagined their angry faces back in the Burrow or Garmound place, or wherever they were.

As he let Hedwig out, making a self note to remember he did, Harry thought how much he envied her to be able to fly away from a place. But she came back shortly after that and didn't asked out again. The cold outside remind Harry of the fever medicine, and after he was done he was left again with nothing to do.

What to do now, Harry didn't know, it wasn't as if he felt like doing a million things. He reckoned he could do school work, he hadn't that much of homework like other years, though had barely started it. Harry wasn't urged to finish it then. After all, better do it last as it was the only activity Harry had to entertain himself in there. And Harry just wasn't on the mood to do it then; actually, he didn't feel like doing anything, maybe flying, but that was out of question.

The next and last few hours at the Dursley's were dramatically weird. If the first of the holiday had been a laugh it was nothing compared to have the Dursleys in the state they were now, when Harry went down for lunch.

It seems they had work out they were being watched and this people knew about Harry and his previous situation. They were terrified of speaking to Harry, like fearing any kind of interaction could be considered mistreating. They even made him quite a lunch he would never dream to eat at Privet Drive, and when Dudley complained that Harry had more in his plate than him, Uncle Vernon roared, 'Shut up,' addressing for the first time his own son.

The hours went by fairly to Harry, now cheered by the spectacle the Dursleys made of doing as if they didn't take notice of his presence and many times about to strain things everywhere from anxiety. It was past noon that Uncle Vernon spoke to him again with a strange request:

'Put on your coat and pack your things up. I want to see you down here done in ten minutes.'

Harry looked at him puzzled, were they taking him to an orphanage, at last, fed up with him?

But Harry serious and determined did as commanded without questions; if the Dursleys didn't want him in the house too bad for them, they were loosing more than he was and Harry didn't want their company more than they wanted his.

When he got down, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were all waiting for him, coated and ready to go. Harry just made the last insolent deduction he could think of: they were going to kill him and hide the body.

However, before Harry could start to his wand, the door burst open and two figures walked in.

'Harry, are you there?' Harry's heart leap jovially; the familiar shape of Mr. Weasley irrupted, closely followed by Remus Lupin. Noticing Harry, Mr. Weasley beamed at him, 'Harry! Good – You look good, you had us preoccupied.'

Lupin was looking at Harry as he was getting a great lot of pressure off his shoulders as he did so. Harry was not able to speak.

Mr. Weasley approached and reached Harry's hands to great him. 'Merlin, Harry, you have grown some inches, haven't you? We came here in the night bus – crowded – never traveled so uncomfortable in my life.'

Mr. Weasley laughed, though as he did so Harry noticed he looked really exhausted.

'M – Mr. Weasley?' Harry asked, still he could not believe his eyes. 'What are you doing here?'

'We come to take you away,' butted in his ex-teacher, professor Lupin, ever so tiredly.

_Away?_ Harry thought. He looked up to the Dursleys looking for answers but they were pretty concentrated on the two intruders in their house (Aunt Petunia, for one, was gripping Dudley's shoulders so tightly you could almost see his pained expression though the fear).

They hadn't told Harry anything that he was going to be taken away that night. Why were they in their coats though?

'OK...' Mr. Weasley said while helping Harry with his trunk to the stairs. 'So how have you been?'

'Erm…'

'You sure have all your things packed, we should be parting shortly – what do you say?' Mr. Weasley wasn't talking to Harry the last bit but to the Dursleys.

'Yeah, right…' Uncle Vernon uttered.

'Great,' Mr. Weasley sighed out.

Now Harry was confused.

'Are the Dursleys coming?' he asked.

'Oh, yeah,' said Mr. Weasley smiling. 'They are going to _drive us in_, isn't that right Mr. Dursley?' he asked, a small twinkle in his eyes had appeared, as every time Mr. Weasley talked about muggles and their inventions.

'Er, right,' Uncle Vernon responded, and then urged his family out of there before they could have contact with the other "freaks" like Harry.

'But – why,' Harry started as the three of them followed the Dursleys outside, 'What happened?'

Lupin was about to _locomotor_ Hedwig's cage when it seems he thought better of it. Mr. Weasley took care of Harry's trunk, leaving Harry his treasure: his Fire Bolt, his first-rated broomstick.

'We just got the permission from Fudge to let you get out of here. He didn't want to, he believes it's now his responsibility, the buffoon,' Mr. Weasley said. 'But of course, he can do anything against a tutor's permission.' He paused when stepping outside, waiting for Harry, '– But we agreed so that we wouldn't call attention we would use muggle transportation and everything. I liked the idea, and Remus wanted to come too.

'And Mr. Dursley had _politely _agreed to get us there,' Mr. Weasley nodded at Uncle Vernon's direction.

'Where are we going?' Harry asked mechanically.

'To my place, the Burrow,' Mr. Weasley said.

'_Where_?' Uncle Vernon asked.

'Wicked Pocus, Wiltshire,' Mr. Weasley assisted and despite the look in Uncle Vernon's face the latter didn't ask further questions. 'It is a magical community, and then to the Burrow. Don't worry, we'll guide you there.'

'And why are they coming?' Harry asked referring to Aunt Petunia and Dudley.

'I insisted they should, so they wouldn't be worried that any of you get injured in the way, I understand the Wizarding World is unknown territory to them,' Mr. Weasley said smiling. It was most likely the Dursley took his words as threatening.

'What's wrong with her? Doesn't look too good,' Remus asked. He was referring to Harry's owl pet Hedwig who seemed to dangle in her cage clumsily, fighting to keep awake.

'I think she got sick along with me. I didn't get her any special attention,' Harry said guiltily and was starting to regret having packed his cloak.

'Maybe it'll be better if I carry her in the back seat,' Remus contemplated aloud.

Uncle Vernon's company car barely held the six persons alone, Hedwig being the last thing so assure the uncomfortableness in there. Harry was left in the front seat next to Uncle Vernon, Mr. Weasley and Lupin at both sides of Aunt Petunia and Dudley in the back. Mr. Weasley offered to bewitch the car so it would accommodate all of them but the Dursleys refused.

'You know, I used to have a car myself,' said Mr. Weasley excitedly leaning in his seat. 'A Ford Angina! Not sure if it was a good car, it acquire a mind of itself and run on its own – it's living in the Forbidden Forest now, isn't that right Harry?'

'Er – right,' Harry responded awkwardly. Uncle Vernon shifted uncomfortably in his seat but Harry believed he was much more easygoing than if he really believed what he was hearing.

'So – Mr. Dursley, turn left here – we should be taking the route to London, then I'll tell where to turn. Oh I've just realized we haven't introduced you.'

Harry turned in his seat. Mr. Weasley was referring to Lupin and Aunt Petunia and Dudley, the two muggles cuddling in each other for comfort, now being pointed.

'This is Remus Lupin, he has been Harry and Ron's professor in their third year, teaching Defense Against Dark Arts – Ron's my son, of course you remember him, we all come to visit you two years ago to take Harry to the Quidditch championship. I think it was a nice experience for the kids.'

Uncle Vernon grunted as response.

'But back with Lupin, he had retired from teaching – Did you know, Remus here is a werewolf,' Mr. Weasley commented and Uncle Vernon stiffed in his seat.

Harry had never seen professor Lupin smile, much less smirk, over being what he is and causing fear in the others. This has been the first though slight change in his behavior, for while Mr. Weasley have been chatting and trying to be polite though his fatigue, Remus looked like being in a horrible mood and refused even to speak to the Dursleys.

But Harry also noticed that Mr. Weasley attempts to be polite weren't so much so. Whether intentionally or not Mr. Weasley seemed to take any kind of conversation where the Dursleys most hate it: Magic.

'Anyway, I'm an employee at the Ministry of Magic, I work with muggles – like you,' Mr. Weasley continued. 'And, which is your occupation, Mr. Dursley?'

'I, err,' Uncle Vernon muttered incoherently uneasily.

'He sells drills,' said Harry sounding as disgracefully as he could. 'You pierce walls and other things with them.'

'Really? And why would you want to pierce things? Would you want to hide something in there – we, wizards I mean, usually Disapparate them by other means, like vanishing or invisibility spells – How strange.'

'Yeah,' Harry said smiling. It was the first time Harry heard Mr. Weasley criticize muggles.

'And how was your summer, Harry?' Mr. Weasley asked, but the tone changed suddenly. 'I mean, apart from, um…'

'I'm fine, Mr. Weasley,' Harry rescued him. 'Tonks took care of me, and my summer was fine,' he said briskly trying to avoid the subject.

'Good,' Mr. Weasley said feeling a little out of place and fell silent after that.

The journey went slowly and uneventfully; Mr. Weasley making small comments once or twice (giving up when any kind of interaction seemed to just put the Dursleys at unease) and Remus silent the whole way, looking warningly at the Dursleys like daring them to do something stupid.

Harry mulled over why Mr. Weasley and Remus didn't escort Harry to the Burrow like the last time, flying with brooms or by floo powder. Sure, he was being watched but the order could still find a way with it, and Harry was expecting a good excuse to be on the air again. They probably thought Harry, still recovering from the past days, shouldn't fly because that would only just expose him to the cold chill of the night.

'Have you found Kreacher yet?' Somehow, the question just popped in Harry's head, though he had no idea what made him be reminded of Kreacher, the Black's house-elf.

Mr. Weasley was silent at first, he then sighed.

'Nothing at all,' he said in a quiet tone. 'Don't worry, Harry, we'll find him. He cannot have gone too far, Dumbledore suspect he – Mr. Dursley, turn here!'

Mr. Weasley was on his feet abruptly, leaning in the gap between Harry and Uncle Vernon's seats pointing right, so that his hand was obstructing Uncle Vernon's view. Uncle Vernon seemed to be about to have a heart attack, he turned mechanically and rather violently to a dirt road.

'Oops, sorry –'

Mr. Weasley has landed just on Aunt Petunia's lap from the sudden rocketing. Aunt Petunia screeched outraged, Uncle Vernon was too concerned about keeping his car from tumbling on one side.

'We should be able to see a tunnel ahead – don't worry, the track is like that on purpose – to keep muggles away –'

Uncle Vernon's scared face was no marvel; it must have been pretty difficult to drive in the uneven pad with no lights all around and a feeble fog rising. Hedwig in her cage wasn't calm and quiet anymore, and Mr. Weasley was miraculously on his feet.

Finally, Harry could see it: a small wooden bridge stayed alone in the middle of the ground. It looked old and worn away. You could see barely both ends of it and it looked to be heading nowhere.

Uncle Vernon stopped the motor.

Mr. Weasley was steadying himself, putting his tiny glasses to its place, and after that he was again smiling.

'Get inside, we'll be there in short,' he cheered.

Uncle Vernon was apprehensive. Even Harry had to give it to him; the bridge was on real state and looked like a cliché scene from a terror film, every part of it screamed '_Run, run for your lives!_'

Finally, Uncle Vernon, despite his better judgment, started towards it. Aunt Petunia and Dudley cowered in fear even more so. But stepping into the bridge, it didn't crack or looked that bad on the insides. On the contrary, the tunnel was long and made of concrete, with large rectangular lights on both sides. Despite the more secure ambient, it was still dark and tenebrous, and awfully quiet. The Dursleys were looking awestruck yet more calmed and Mr. Weasley has taken a _Daily Prophet_ out from his coat.

It felt strange to Harry all about the surroundings, especially when looking up at the lights on the upper part of the channel. The constant flashing was making him feel lightheaded and the Dursleys seemed to be sharing his thoughts – which would be dangerous in Vernon's case as he was driving. But, looking at the back seat, Harry could see Mr. Weasley calmly looking at the paper and Remus looking out of the window with the same angered yet dazed expression.

Relaxing, Harry started to feel drowsy from the journey. The tunnel didn't seem to have an end, contrary as how it looked from the outside.

'_Look, Harry, we're here!_' Mr. Weasley's voice sounded both faint and loud.

Harry was half way to dream land before light came upon him. He yawned and looked the city ahead take form.

'Nothing out of the ordinary, Wicked Pocus,' Mr. Weasley said.

Sure, apart from the two feet hydra tied by the three necks walked by its owner, the woman levitating in air at the park offering a spectacle and flying broomsticks and cauldrons displayed in the window of a store, it was pretty much like any ordinary city.

'Go down, through this same road – we have to turn right in _Melindas Fourforth_ and right again in _Merlin's Wand_. No way to get lost, eh?'

Wicked Pocus, despite what it looked from its entrance, was quite a large town. They first went by part of the center area and then to rural area; the citizens houses were block after block, from a busy district with lots of buildings – some of the stores in the buildings were floating over the each other – to more the domestic isolated houses in the countryside. This place looked exactly like the ideal place to live to Harry.

Later, however, they abandoned the finer regions of Wicked Pocus and appeared in a place that was not that welcoming. There were a lot of little shops on the surroundings, the streets were dirtier and the lights seemed to extinguish as they passed.

Mr. Weasley has resumed his talking, Harry suspected, as a way to divert everyone's attention from the place. It worked for Harry, and both went again to talk about Harry's last year. Mr. Wealey kept asking Harry about this and that, finally settling on Hogwarts. Sure enough soon both were talking animatedly (though Harry, mostly, to annoy his Uncle – because he still wasn't feeling that well). It went for about hours like that:

'Yes, poor Ron, he must have felt horrible up there,' Mr. Weasley noted. 'Yes, it was a horrible year to you all, wasn't it? That Umbridge woman… I must say, the idea of the DA group, it was brilliant, wasn't it, Remus?'

Lupin was smiling faintly, his eyes more tired than ever.

'Yes, of course it was! Harry, and Ron and Hermione, the three of them were always – _are_ very intelligent and talented kids. '

Harry smiled back at him, having the slight impression as he did so that he was worsening Lupin's state rather than helping him.

'Did you know,' Mr. Weasley asked leaning in Uncle Vernon's seat, 'that Harry created a studding group – he's the best of his class, Defense Against Dark Arts, and taught his mates to defend themselves? You must be very proud of your nephew, aren't you?'

Several times during the journey Mr. Weasley kept insisting Harry recounted everything about the DA for some reason. Uncle Vernon groaned as many times before he did.

'Tell him, Harry, you had to make that secret group because of that Umbridge woman.'

'It wasn't me alone, Ron and Hermione –'

'Of course,' Mr. Weasley said, 'but I've already heard their point of view, I want to hear yours. I'm sure your uncle would want to too, wouldn't you?'

Uncle Vernon made to say something just before Lupin interjected, 'Yes he would.' The insides of the car went silent. 'Go on Harry.'

'Erm…' Harry eyed his uncle hesitantly. Deciding the Dursleys weren't dangerous to them and the theme wasn't that secret Harry complied. Harry recalled many things, like how exactly they have come up with the name _Dumbledore's Army_ and, he must admit, he was having quite a good time; bashing Umbridge, talking about the improvements in DA and all that had become rather entertaining. 'And then we knew from Dobby that Umbridge had discovered about DA from that girl Marietta – Hermione's SNEAK trap was _brilliant_ – So we run in every direction, splitting so that they couldn't track us down, but the Slytherins – you know the Inquisitional Squad, the gits… I _could_ have escaped from Umbridge if only – that insufferable git –'

'Yes, _yes_,' Uncle Vernon interrupted sighing like being already bored out of his wits. 'That – _Draco Malfoy_, right?'

Harry blinked and then he frowned heated; here was Uncle Vernon was talking as if he had known Harry life in Hogwarts since forever!

'This _Malfoy_,' Uncle Vernon began, 'He's another… _like you_, right?'

'Another what?' asked Mr. Weasley sounding politely puzzled – Lupin was paying attention as well by now.

'Yes, he's like me,' Harry said angered.

'Right,' Uncle Vernon responded grumpily, like he needed reminding that this boy, Malfoy, was wizard just as Harry was and, therefore, he had forbidden idolizing him. Yes, just tradition, ideologies and pure wizard blood separated the Dursleys and the Malfoys of becoming best torturing-Harry pals.

'Oh, now I remember,' Mr. Weasley said. 'I heard you and Fred got Malfoy's son after your match,' – Mr. Weasley had a look fair only onhis wife – 'I must say, I'm not proud. Despite what may have appeared to you and to my sons, I do not believe is correct, you to be violent with each other. I say, Malfoy's son isn't his father.'

'But he's very much alike him,' Harry said dropping the friendly tone.

The chatting died here. Harry was left to deal with his own rage so he tried switching his mind to the outsides. _Malfoy_, a grim voice in Harry's finished, the sole thought of the name angered him even more. Then something happened. Harry's eyes clouded stricken by a strange sensation, as if he was being carried despite his will with each and every part of him lighter. Some part of him screamed to stop… his heart beats run searching… The scene at his surrounding was awfully familiar, like it was a piece to match in an imaginary puzzle… Somehow, incredibly, Harry knew exactly that he was somewhere. He couldn't explain it, but he was so sure… the moment they turned next block he would be able to see it. But were they to turn?

'Here,' Mr. Weasley said, 'turn left, Mr. Dusley.'

_Yes_, some part of Harry's mind screamed. His eyes flew open in anticipation; Harry knew it was there; he had to prove it to himself…

Uncle Vernon's car took forever to turn. But the moment it did Harry's stomach swirled with disappointment; nothing was there. In the place where it should have stood a marvelous house in white with black frames, huge as a palace, was a little greengrocer in decadence at the side of a closed up casino. Instantly the shadow of the image in Harry's head disappeared. The scene was all wrong; the two buildings didn't seem to fit in it, they were strangely outstanding within the large square houses. Had Harry mistaken the place, and why should have been there a palace-like house?

After that block the threes and lights died away. Later the streets became one sole dirt track again though great the areas of farming land. It was totally dark now. Only the light coming from the some space ahead, some stars and the car illuminated the path, the light of the city now distant, akin to fireflies posed in the horizon thin line. Not too long after they stepped in there did they perceive the faint signs that told they were arriving to the Burrow.

'There!' Mr. Weasley said, 'At last!' Uncle Vernon looked about to tell Mr. Weasley off like he was an overenthusiastic child.

Despite the tortuously long journey Harry's heart leap, his muscles complained with every fiber in them when he stretched to see better… The Burrow looked as welcoming as always. A fire had been started and smoked though the several chimneys, a warm manner seemed to irradiate from it.

Uncle Vernon's car stopped and it took a matter of seconds for Harry to get out and Mr. Weasleys seemed to think the same way.

'I take it back – _that_ was the most uncomfortable ride ever,' Mr. Weasley told Harry in an undertone.

There was no welcoming reception but Harry would be happy enough if the Dursleys went back to Privet Drive and as far away from Harry as possible straight away. By the time they got everything that was Harry's out, however, the door of the Burrow opened. A wrapped up Ginny was standing there, one hand rubbing one eye as if trying to get it off, half sleep from what Harry could tell. She stopped in the middle of a yawn like swallowing a balloon; her eyes started wide open before shouting: '_Ron! Mum! He's here!_'

Quite a loud racquet could be heard inside before Ron tumbled out of there, closely followed by Fred and George Weasley, his twins brothers, Mrs. Weasley in her nightgown and a man with equally red hair Harry didn't make out at first who it was, who also was the only one dressed like going out – actually, they all were in their pajamas. Harry couldn't suppress a smile.

'It seems I woke you up,' he said once Ron got where he was. Though he wasn't too sure Ron heard him. Ron stopped to take a lungful of air.

'Oh – no,' he breathed. 'We were waiting – since noon –'

Even when Ron was doubling over it was obvious he was taking Harry on in heights for quite a good amount. He smiled, like humored by something, and growing crimson from agitation he said. 'Good to see you, mate.'

Ginny's welcome was a little more enthusiastic. At once Harry registered someone calling his name and her plunging herself to him. Right after her was her mother.

'Oh dear, _oh dear_,' Mrs Weasley stressed as she hurried to Harry, hugged him, and let go to stare him, 'Are you all right? Oh I've been so preoccupied –'

'He's fine, stop asphyxiating him!' Fred plugged in while patting Harry on the back as greeting.

'Yeah, he needs to breathe, mum. You know the number one thing to live?' George said grinning equally cheekily.

'Oh stop joking around you two! I've been _so worried_ something had happened in the way, you took so _long_!'

'Don't worry, Molly,' Mr. Weasley butted in, 'we got a little later because of traffic, that's all.'

'_Arthur Weasley!_ Don't you tell me to calm down! Sure you think I was just perfect –'

' – So, how've you been?'

Harry diverted his attention from Mr. Weasley retrieving away from his wife who now seemed in the verge of tears, to his best mate Ron's anxious look. Meanwhile Fred and George were making faces to the cowering Dursleys.

'What do you mean, how I've been –'

'The _muggles_!' Ron spat fuming and dragging Harry to one side. 'What those muggles did to you! _I swear_ I should –'

'They are right there, if you want them,' Harry said casually pointing with a thumb the car, half-meaning it. They didn't look that threatening shrinking there.

Ron frowned and seemed to be considering it. Harry had to act right away, 'I'm kidding, Ron.'

However the grimace didn't disappear of his face and by this time it wasn't the only one. The other members of the Weasley family were by now silently glaring at the Dursley's direction. Harry then remembered the howlers at Privet Drive.

'Hello there,' the stranger called at Harry's right, and just then Harry recognized him: Charlie Weasley. 'Nice to meet you again, Harry.'

Harry had only seen the second older of the Weasley brother once before. Harry noticed as he shook his hand that Charlie was little like his other brothers, mainly because he was shorter than Harry, had tanned skin and a disordered appearance didn't match the smart suit. As a matter of fact Harry wouldn't have been too surprised if his mother has dressed him.

Harry offered his hand uncertainly and Charlie shook it, offering a little laugh. For some reason Harry was feeling rather stupid and felt himself going red before a hand on his shoulders distracted him. Lupin had reappeared at his right still looking sullen.

'C'mon,' he said. 'Better get inside, it's cold out here.'

'Wait,' Harry called out. 'What are you going to do – I mean, the Dursleys –'

'Don't worry. Mr. Weasley agreed to guide your family back to the muggle entrance of Wicked Pocus.'

'No, I mean,' Harry started, 'about them, telling people about Wicked Pocus. Aren't you going to _oblivate_ them or something?'

'Oh, no, that won't be necessary,' interjected Mr. Weasley appearing briefly at his side, he was handing Ron Harry's luggage. 'The Magic protection in the wizarding grounds allows magical people to get in and out of it, while the muggles forget how to get there the moment they step out of the barrier. Here, son –'

Mr. Weasley brought Hedwig's cage in the house before Harry was able to respond.

'Magic protection? As in Hogwarts'?' he asked Lupin.

'Alike, yes,' Lupin said. 'The tunnel is jinxed. The entrance in magically protected, you remember those lights in the tunnel?'

'Oh,' Harry said awkwardly, Mr. Weasley just passing by, back to Uncle Vernon's car. Harry was on the brink of calling back at him feeling guilty about leaving that responsibility to Mr. Weasley.

Halfway to the Burrow, Harry and Lupin at the very back, Harry said, 'I have a question. Does the Ministry know about the blood protection in my aunt's house?'

'Blood protection?'

But Mrs Wealey hurried them inside smiling and both were distracted from the theme; she kept blabbing about how worried she had been and how she was going to kill his husband when he was back. Suddenly she stopped dead.

'Harry, sorry dear, you don't seem to have eaten, would you want something – carrots soup?' she finished abruptly already fumbling though bowls.

'Oh I know what we'll do. You go and rest in Ron's room; I'll bring your food there, what do you say, Harry?'

'Harry's the favorite,' George explained his older brother Charlie with mocking scowls. 'Mum's never let us eat in the room.'

'That's because you're a mess and none of you is sick, are you?' Mrs. Weasley said.

'I'm fine now, honest,' Harry explicated.

'It was a long trip here and you need rest, Harry,' she said. Harry was no one to argue, he was feeling like collapsing any minute.

'Now go you – boys, please help with Harry's stuff – Ginny, you help me in the kitchen.'

Ginny seemed crestfallen (Harry heard her murmur '_Always me! The little one, the only other woman…_') but she obeyed.

Ron just opened his mouth to speak when –

'And no questioning! You better don't disturb Harry; he needs sleep!' Mrs. Weasley called.

'_Damned_ that woman,' Fred said. 'Always one step ahead.'

However, once they reached the top of the stairs...

'Did they receive it,' George asked. 'Our Howlers I mean,'

'You speak bro! Did we scare them out of their pants?' joined Fred. Harry smiled.

'Yeah, they were _brilliant_,' Harry said.

'They were, weren't they?' Fred said with a twinkle in his eyes Harry had only seen in Mr. Weasley's every time he's talking about muggles' inventions. 'Oh I'd have loved to see their faces – when seeing Mum's giant ranged face – who wouldn't cower up with _that_!'

'What face?' Harry asked perplexed. Both the twin's faces fell.

'They didn't work?' Fred said frowning.

'Work what?' Ron asked.

'Nah, nothing,' said George. 'We wanted to try out a new invention:' (he extended his arms presenting a new product on sale with a funny face for dramatic effect) 'The "Weasleys Whole-Watch Howlers". We're still working on the title, you see.'

'_Howlers?_' Ron disgusted face met Harry's.

'Yes,' Fred said. 'May not be that nice for kids but they are a real joy – when you're not the receiver, of course. We decided Howlers are quite a good business. Have to expand our commercial rage –'

'_Fred, George, what did I say!_' Mrs. Weasley's voice came from downstairs.

The twins shoved Harry's things inside the nearest room the same time Ron and Harry entered. The moment Ron closed the door Harry heard two loud cracks from outside knowing that the twins had _Disapparated_.

'We have both to sleep here, that with Charlie here; hope you don't mind,' Ron said.

Harry blinked and looked at the room. It was rather messy alike his own – though rather not that bad. Harry remembered how he had seen this same room, Ron's, years before and had still the same opinion of it.

Unexpectedly Ron dived for his bed and sat down, 'We could have used Percy's but – you know mum.'

'Yeah, no problem, it is nice here.'

Ron was looking uneasy and seemed not to want to make eye contact. Harry flopped on the twin bed at Ron's right.

'What's with you?' he asked.

After what appeared like an extensive meditating time, Ron seemed to be about to speak out his thoughts. Harry waited watching him open and shut his mouth hesitantly several times before spitting 'Do you've any news from Hermione?'

Harry's heart started to race.

'Why? Is she alright?' he asked, making his best not to sound panicky.

'Wha – no,' Ron said on a rush, '_No no, no_ – She's fine. I didn't mean to –' Ron's face betrayed Harry's deadly presumptions and he finished, 'sorry, no, she is perfect – Well, as far as I understand.'

'Then why...'

Ron had the look of someone who was being made say something he didn't want. 'I, err, y- you see, I - I kind of say – _write _– something in the last letter I send to her I- I didn't mean – well, I don't know if I did – well, yes, I know –'

'Ron,' Harry said winded. He could not possibly imagine what was making Ron this nervous but he definitely wasn't on the humor to take it. 'What's it? Just tell me.'

'I – OK,' Ron said as he grew shades redder. 'I send her an owl – you know with the OWL examinations, and,' he looked uncertainly at Harry and breathed out, 'I think she might've misunderstood me.'

Ron paused and waited for Harry to show reaction. Harry just blinked.

'So?' he pressed on.

'She might've _understood_ I was – asking her out.'

Silence followed that statement.

'That's it?' Harry said humored. Here was he worrying they have had a fight – a nasty one – and they ruined their friendship or something. He laughed, 'What's the deal?'

'Well! I mean – You know!'

'Actually, Ron,' Harry continued, 'it would be quite a good idea if you did!' He grinned, and mock batted eyelashes; 'Aw, my lil friends are growing old.'

Harry laughed again. Ron was going each time redder.

'Well, thanks, Harry. Like I hadn't had enough with my brothers and little sister teasing me, now _you_ laugh!' he said turning on the opposite side of Harry lying on his bed.

'Oh, c'mon, Ron,' said Harry, the joke still present in his voice.

'But – you see,' Ron turned on his bed again and said in an annalistic manner, 'I was thinking: What if she got it all wrong? You know, when I was sending the owl, my brothers got hold of it and read it aloud. They said it sounded like it was – when I was talking about going to Diagon Alley together we all, like I was sort of asking her out, I mean. But the gits said so a little too late; I have already tucked it on Errol's leg and he took off! I tried to stop him but he wouldn't obey so…' Ron was quite breathless by now looking miserable to Harry. 'You see…'

'But it wouldn't be that bad –'

But Ron continued as if Harry had not spoken, 'Now Hermione would think I'm, like, interested on her and she will go, I don't know – she would get mad and never want to see me again, or she will let me down pitifully, or avoid me, or she could go like giving me a chance, then I'll tell her I didn't mean it and she'd be again mad at me, probably won't want to see me again, and we'll stop being friends!'

Ron finished dramatically with both his hands on the air.

Harry smiled again and said, 'Hermione's not like that –' But as he said so Harry remembered how things went with Cho and how little did he understood about women. Still Ron was his best mate; the last thing Harry would want is to see him this preoccupied.

Ron's face was screwed in worry looking at some spot near Harry's feet. Finally Harry said, 'I'll talk to Hermione. Owl-mail her, tomorrow, to see what she understood of the letter. Don't worry, mate.'

Ron made a muffled sound with his head buried in his pillow.

The conversation has driven Harry into considering his past experiences with girls later that night, trying to figure out how to ask Hermione about the issue in his owl. The conclusion of it was that he might never date anyone again and, with his luck, not because he didn't want to.

Before, Ron tried somewhat forcefully to make some conversation with Harry. There was something strange with the situation. Both looked too uncomfortable to talk yet they kept talking about unimportant stuff, about upcoming classes and such. Finally after Harry was brought dinner which he ate as if he had been starving for ages and like his throat didn't ache at all, they went to sleep, to Harry's contentment. Ginny was allowed to visit Harry just briefly when she and Mrs Weasley brought them dinner.

Harry dreamed about snitches again and, again, with that feeling in the back of his neck.

'Are you ever gonna stop growing?'

Harry was meaning his friend Ron, silently laughing at the look of his face at the sudden question.

'That's exactly what we've been asking ourselves,' George responded Harry chopping on a piece of bread.

It was quite a fact that Ron was the tallest of the Weasleys. Both the twins were shorter than Ron now by quite some amount, Bill being second only for inches. Actually, just now has Harry realized how so; he, Harry, looked like a full grown goblin at the side of him.

'Actually, yah know, I don't remember giving you permission to look that old, lil bro' said Fred dropping the friendly tone. 'Now everybody'll think we're immature!'

Ginny snorted. Following, the table in general chuckled or openly laughed. George hid under the table to stop from spitting his mouthful.

Eating lunch at the Weasleys' table had to be one of the most enjoyable activities Harry could think of. The friendly surroundings were always welcoming – on that particular moment the delicious waft coming from the kitchen the most, so very different from at the Dursleys'. Harry didn't remember ever sleeping so well before. Nor he remembered such a warm welcome when waking up the next day pass noon. Actually, it was embarrassing to be the whole Burrow's centre of the universe.

'You are demented enough without help –' started Ron when interrupted by his mother.

'Fred, you wally," Mrs. Weasley said as she appeared from the kitchen with her gloves still on. 'You leave your brother – and sister, before you start – alone. And you too, George, behave yourselves.'

'And what did _I _do?' said George outraged and indeed spitting food as he did so, at which Mrs. Weasley reacted reprimanding him ('_George!_') and smacking his head with a hankie. While she was busy, Ron called the twins something nasty, half-smiling and while rolling his eyes. Harry grinned.

'Oh, c'mon, mum," Fred whined while George ouch-ed from his mother's previous action, "are you ever gonna get _tired_ sometime?'

'What?' said Mrs. Weasley as she stopped in mid-track looking lost. The twins shared one brief conspiratorial glance.

'Yeah, mum, I mean, everybody – and by that I mean nobody –' that pretty much brought the confused attention of the rest of the table, George went on, '– has ever, if started to tell us off –'

'– or stop doing pranks and stuff,' said Fred now with a mouthful of porridge, 'achieved it.'

'No one –'

' – has ever stopped us and –'

'So – sorry to disappoint you – '

'Not even you stand a chance.'

That earned the calm-looking twins an annoyed frown from Mrs. Weasley's part.

'And, I mean, LOTS tried,' George spat, unaffected and dramatically.

'And everyone – no, seriously, _everyone_ that knew us from over a year – got tired!' Fred pointed out.

'Decided to get tired, more like,' George quickly inserted.

Another quick look.

'_And you're our mother!_' Fred and George both declared at unison with freighted innocence and over-acted surprise.

'And that concludes out case,' George said, bowing his head proudly before he started eating again.

'You from all people should be pretty worn out by now – miiiind you are still very pretty,' Fred said the last very fast with a mock-innocent expression. George pointed and nodded at him with his mouth too full to comment.

Somebody snorted. Harry turned to find Ginny giggling under the table imitating his brother's earlier action. Only maybe this should be understood this as way of protection, Harry thought noticing Ron's worried look and Mr. Weasley disappearing behind his _Daily Prophet_.

Mrs. Weasley, however, reacted quite calmly.

'Oh boys, stop acting the clowns and help me over with these,' she said returning to attend the table. It seems she was too happy to scowl or get cranky over it just then. It was maybe because of it that Ron dared another comment, 'You know, you're not being fair, Hermione did quite a good job in stopping you as a prefect.'

'Oh and prefect Ronnikins is sticking out for role-model perfect Hermione – Oops, I mean, _prefect_.'

Ron's ears went red and he looked crankier.

'_Shut it_,' he said frowning at the twins and Ginny who were staring with silent laughter.

'Well, chatting's over; all sit down to eat,' Mrs. Weasley said placing a bowl of stew on the table.

Noisily, the Weasley members, each, went to their seats, including Charlie who had just arrived looking like there was nothing he regretted most than jumping out of bed.

At that time, Mrs. Weasley stopped on her track abruptly, staring transfixed at one exact spot ahead. Gradually, alerted by the sudden lack of movement and the missing plates, everybody's view diverted there. That's when Harry saw it. Right next to Ginny's, Mrs. Weasley had set an extra dish and cutlery on the table. An uncomfortable silence rose on the table.

But if he was to be honest, Harry wasn't that concerned. He remembered his mistake of taking too much parchment out of his school trunk. He was conscious he was sounding a bit cold, even curious why he felt that way, but it wasn't that moving from his point of view.

At last, Mrs. Weasley seemed to wake up from her reverie and went to pick the extra cutlery.

'Oh, _dear_,' she said trying to hold everything clumsily in her hands, 'silly me.'

Harry thought she was going to cry but he was mistaken. Coming to think of it, Harry didn't know which Percy's situation was as of now. He had assumed, now with Harry's name cleared, that Percy was going to return home. Percy didn't have any reasons to stick for Fudge's side now that everybody knew Voldemort was at loss, that Fudge was wrong.

Ginny spooned herself some stew but it was Harry the first to start eating after Mrs. Weasley had disappeared in the kitchen. Slowly the other followed though silence still ringed about.

Mrs. Weasley reappeared a while later more animated than she left. She had a brave smile stored for her family. Harry wondered how he wasn't able to pity her in such circumstances, but he couldn't figure it out then.

'Well but you have matured yourself some inches, haven't you?' asked Mrs. Weasley, talking to Harry. 'Gown into quite a man…'

Harry took the tag for the conversation just fine with only half his mind on it. He just figured Mrs Weasley was saying it out of politeness. He didn't think he made that much of a difference from what he was the moment he met the Weasley family first. Ron, his brothers and even Ginny have developed into something else; Harry, on the other hand, was still skinny, short, maybe grubbier, but definitely not much different in looks...

' – birthday party.'

'Huh? What?' Harry felt his feet meet ground when getting the last of Mrs. Weasley's words.

'Your birthday, silly,' she said. 'We have to prepare things, I'm sure we can make some space if we take some of the wild plants.'

'Pre-_prepare_, for what, I mean,' Harry said still perplexed.

'Blimey! You must've quite lost track of time if you don't know what day's tomorrow,' said Ginny, a little smirk on her face.

Harry's insides gave a jolt. Judging by the Weasley family member's faces, despite Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, they too have forgotten about what day it was. Soon the questioning looks pulled themselves into smirks and grins.

'Happy birthday, Harry,' Ron beamed at Harry patting his shoulder. His ears were vivid red as his hair. Arthur Weasley had put away his paper hastily to shake Harry's hand and Charlie gave a polite 'Birthday.'

'Finally, some party going on here!' said Fred.

The twins were there on vacation just like Ron, Ginny and Harry, but not from school. Now that they left and had their own joke shop at Diagon Alley, they said, they need their breaks from the agitated and demanding lives of the business man. Though Harry also suspected Mrs. Weasley was the one who dragged them there, that with the Voldemort issue going on.

'You don't have to do anything, really,' said Harry while Ginny pecked him on the cheek. He forced himself to stop grinning. 'Really, guys - Mrs. Weasley, I don't, you don't have –'

'Oh don't be ridiculous, of course we have!' she said. 'We have still to prepare things though, but we will manage, don't worry. Now you eat, the food's getting cold – Fred, George, get back to your seats this instant, and leave that jar alone!'

Nobody seemed to mind the food, though. The twins were both smirking and eating at full speed, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were chatting so that Harry was sure the stew hadn't touched their lips, and Mr. Weasley was trying to call his wife's attention, failing, and turning to Charlie instead. Every now and then Harry heard those two discussing politics and the elections that would take place sometime on October.

Ron seemed awkwardly uneasy in his thoughts. Abruptly he rose and went upstairs without another word. The table gave confused looks as Ron returned moments later holding something wrapped in what Harry suspected was a bed cloth.

'Birthday –' he said out of breath placing the draped object on the table.

'You could've waited after – oh don't be silly, Ron,' said Mrs. Weasley looking at the gift wrapping. 'We're going to buy Harry nice presents first time tomorrow at Diagon Alley, along with your school things – We should be getting the list tonight. We would spend all day at Diagon Alley, what do you say, Harry?'

'– you don't need to!' said Harry looking up from his present to her, Ron was as red as a tomato. He had already started stripping his present and finished before Ron could even think of taking it away from him. It discovered a small box and inside was a miniature Quidditch pitch with only one player there; a Keeper. This seemed to be game or device to make moves and strategies for the Keeper position, Ron's, and was Ron's property, of course.

Harry was about to say he couldn't not accept it but the look on Ron's face made him think it was embarrassing enough to Ron as it was.

'Thanks,' Harry said. He grinned at Ron whole-hearty, if not a bit amused. Only Ron could be so generous as to give something this important to Harry only not to let him feel forgotten. Ron's face seemed to lighten up with pride, the atmosphere with him.

'Well, we could give you one of our Miscellanies Mix or Power-Plush Packs,' said George. 'After all it's the least we can do to our pioneering sponsor.'

'I don't know, George,' Fred butted in. 'I mean, you know, maybe a Simple Sassy set. We don't want to give away all our stock, are we? Still have a business to run and everything.'

'Pioneering sponsor?' Ginny asked curiously.

So they were found by tea time, the twins revealing only the necessary about Harry's lend. The table sniggered festively, and soon the conversation moved to the plans tomorrow, at Diagon Alley, and today's p arty. Fred and George wanted a night sleep-over party with most of the Gryffindors invited; a physical impossibility because the little space the Burrow offered. Thirteen minutes later on the subject; they were determined to make Mrs. Weasley agree with the idea.

'That's the fashionable thing nowadays, you know,' said Fred.

'You are on, bro,' said George, close to empty plate left to the side. 'The kids are old enough and we live away from muggle-view, and everybody can use Wicked Pocus portals to arrive.'

'We'll see, we'll see,' Mrs. Weasley said with a small smile. 'For now let us have supper quietly, will you? I will bring tea.'

Just then there was banging at the door, startling the Weasley in chain (Charlie even reached for his wand) except for Harry. He felt little worry while he listened Ron rant about his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, and judging from Ron's expression he wasn't all that puzzled or concerned either ('I tell you he's blind, it was an open foul!')

'Ah, it should be our special guess,' said Mrs. Weasley rising from the table casually.

'_Special?'_ asked Ron, his humored tone lingering. 'Who's that?'

'Hermione, of course,' said Mrs. Weasley.

Ron's face fell and stared (on the other side of the table Harry heard sighs of relief from Mr. Weasley and Charlie's part.)

'Hermione?' both Harry and Ron asked so her name sounded slurred.

'Yes, Hermione, of course' Mrs. Weasley repeated. 'It told her about your situation yesterday, Harry, and invited her to stay in here –'

'But we don't have rooms!' Ron said a little too quickly.

'Oh, don't be ridiculous, Ron, we can clear outPercy's room or your dad's study, or maybe the attic. She _has _to come to Harry's party! Now you come to greet her – Ron, don't make me feel embarrassed, show some manners.'

Both Ron and Harry rose and moved to stand some meters from the door, waiting for Mrs. Weasley to open it. Ron seemed very nervous. Harry pitied him for he himself hadn't been able to ask Hermione about that the letter Ron sent her. He could hear the twins sniggering and Ginny singsong voice from behind saying: 'Surprise, surprise!' Harry was having a hard time keeping his face straight, himself.

Mrs. Weasley peeked though a small whole in the door with a bi-color glass, before opening the door. Standing on the other side were not only the great mass of bushy hair Harry recognized as Hermione but Tonks too, the last carrying a heavy-looking trunk awkwardly with both hands. Behind a mass of ginger hair sparked two little excited eyes.

'Hi, Mrs. Weasley – Ron, Harry – Ginny, how are you?' Hermione said all too fast and anxiously. She didn't seem to be able to make up her mind on who to greet first. Harry thought it was most probably because she was embracing her enormous ginger cat Crookshanks which made it quite difficult to get close enough to anybody. Finally, Ginny took care of the over-feed beast while Hermione managed to pounce on Harry and Ron both, staggering them into almost falling to the floor.

'Hermione – _wait_,' Harry coped. Hermione's hold was stronger than he remembered it being.

'Oh, sorry,' she said stepping back. She was red in the face with bright eyes like she was about to cry. Ron was red as well – though, Harry was sure, because of a different matter. Harry himself felt a little heated.

'I've been so – when Ron's mum said – Oh Harry, Ron, I'm so happy to _see_ you!' Hermione said very fast. She plugged herself on them again.

'Her- Hermione!' Harry could hear Ron and the background giggling and chuckling.

'Hello, Molly! How's been everything, the family?' Tonks asked when stepping inside and Harry saw one of Mrs. Weasley's flower vases dangerously go over the edge of a stand. 'I think you should put that cauldrons in, seems it's going to rain.'

Tonks, who had reputation of clumsiness, turned to the door violently – the vase from before would have smashed on the floor from the sudden movement had not been for Ginny who cached it with reflexes worth of a Seeker, and still managing to taking care of Crookshanks.

Mrs. Weasley was out of air.

'Yes, yes, everything okay,' she said rather crudely once she seemed to steady herself. She sure wasn't too convinced to have a walking disaster like Tonks in her house. 'Fred, George, please, can you get upstairs Hermione's things?'

'But we'r' eat'n'!' George said though a mouth full of his cold lunch.

'Oh don't worry! I can do it myself, boys,' Tonks beamed.

'Oh, no, that won't be necessary –' but Tonks had already started towards the stairs. Mrs. Weasley stared at her sons, 'You can get Harry's things to his room but cannot help a lady, what gentlemen you are!'

And she went after Tonks clutching uneasily her apron. Harry did not think it was because of the twins that she was at that state. Mr. Weasley went after them.

'How have you been?'

Hermione was whipping her face in her sleeve inwardly that it was leaving cat hairs at its wake as she did so.

'Okay, I guess,' Harry said.

'He's fine, Hermione.' Ron began but she was already speaking to Ginny by then.

'Oh – sorry, Ginny,' Hermione said moving to the excited-looking Crookshanks at her grasp. 'Must be the weather; he had been like that all week. And you? Oh, how are you Ginny?'

Hermione tried to greet her but, even if backwards, it was again impossible with Crookshanks between them. Finally they settle with mollycoddle stroking Crookshanks. Harry had to notice something different about Hermione, and that was that she looked like overly sensitive and fuzzier. Being Hermione who he was talking about, that was saying something.

'So, err,' Ron started. But Tense! Ron was ignored by Overwhelmed! Hermione.

'You must be Charlie, aren't you?' she said.

'The same and only. You must be Ron's friend Hermione, I've heard lots about you.'

Again Ron went red, and as well did Hermione.

'Hey, 'mione!' Fred called. Ron spun around sending a chair down. 'We're having a party!'

Hermione was barely finished greeting George.

'Are you? Because of Harry's –' she looked at her side to Harry as if she had said something she shouldn't have.

'Yes, because of Harry's birthday,' Ron stated agitatedly.

'Mum's taking us all tomorrow to Diagon Alley,' said Ginny who seemed to finally realize there was no reason to be holding the Crookshanks in her arms and dropped the crabby looking cat to the floor. 'It's great! Then we'll get our things and do all at once.'

'As soon as mum decide to grace us with her presence she would fill us all in about that,' George sulked. 'Then, just some minor adjustments, and it will be party for all!'

At this Fred did some weird dance as the table cheered. Hermione apologized for not having a present for Harry just yet, Ron looked even more upset, and Ginny tried to keep Crookshanks from leaping on Charlie's ruff.

'So, the journey alright?' asked George.

'Oh, yes!' said Hermione. 'Never knew some place like Wicked Pocus existed, there's so much about the Wizarding World I don't know about. I'm sure Harry knows what I mean, don't you, Harry?' She beamed at him. 'I think it is a wonderful idea, a community of wizards – oh and the way you can travel from a place to another so fast! It's like the Portkeys, isn't that right? Or is it like Floo Powder?'

'Floo Powder,' said Ron, though his expression quite betrayed his security on it. Was he trying to impress Hermione?

'I was surprised too – your parents weren't let in, right, mumione?' Harry blinked and corrected his expression quickly. He frowned when he was sure the attention wasn't in him, though the odd lapsus had not received much attention. Some time during the euphoria, Harry started to consider that the place had gone too noisy for his liking.

It was in the middle of this chaos that went on about tea time that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Tonks reappeared at the dinning room, by which timeGinny, Ron, Hermione and Harry had resolved into playing a snaps card game to kill time ('Take that, Potter! Virginia, you're next –'). Mrs. Weasley looked ruffled and strained. Mr. Weasley had his wand out.

'Well, that's it,' she said in between sighs. Tonks was looking flushed.

'Why don't you go rest, Molly –' Mr. Weasley tried. His wife was already marching away to the kitchen, gesturing Ginny to help pick the plates.

'Erm. Tonks, dear,' he started.

'Right. Er, maybe I should get going…'

In that moment a loud thunder noise erupted outside sounding extremely close to them.

Fred went to the window. 'Oh man!' he stated furious, George and Ron going their way to peek outside too. Harry didn't need to go. He could hear the heavy rain drops hitting the roof.

'I know I'm a little late on news, but you're jinxed Potter – Ouch!'

Ginny had beaten his brother Fred across the head with a kitchen glove. Meanwhile Tonks had opened the window to stare at the clouds, her colored hair going everywhere, Mrs. Weasley looked aghast as the carpet grew wet.

'Bloody vandals!' Mr. Weasley said looking out too. He was shouting but in the insides everybody could hear him only faintly: '_It's them again, I'm sure. Trouble makers… What's that?_'

'They who, Arthur?' Mrs. Weasley questioned severely. 'And what's _what_?'

Mr. Weasley and Tonks both returned inside, Tonks shut the window.

'What – ' Mr. Weasley, deafened by the wind, turned to the source of the voice and then at everybody else's. Almost immediately he had a look on his face knowingly he should not have the attention he was receiving. 'Well, err – There has been an issue in the Ministry, cannot tell what's making these changes on the weather. I think someone's developed a way to take over despite the weather control.'

'We believe it's not natural cause,' Tonks said trying to dry her hair in her sleeve, 'But they are making a real mess. Arthur and I are on the same case.'

'I'm mostly there to fix things when wizards do magic nowadays to defend themselves… flooding, snowstorms; can you blame them?'

Mr. Weasley dried himself with a tissue and then cleaned his glasses. Tonks, on the other hand, soggy and looking alike a soaked dog, was staring at Harry guiltily.

'I'm sorry,'

Hermione watched Harry sympathetically.

'Don't worry,' he said truly untroubled. Ron and Hermione had been morbidly silent as they all made their way upstairs. Mrs. Weasley had let Hermione in Ron's room so they could chat, out of pity, Harry presumed. 'Really,' he insisted.

He could hear George and Fred still protesting in the kitchen.

'Bad luck,' Ron crept on his bed, 'Anyway, don't think you missed much, it wouldn't've been a great party, mum wouldn't allow it. And we don't have the space to do it anyway. So, anyway –'

'It's okay, really! I cannot remember why I would want a party in the first place.'

Hermione and Ron went silent again.

'Oh, please, talk! I won't die because I don't have a stupid party!'

Harry had said that a little too rashly.

'We could,' Hermione began, 'you know; make a personal party – I mean, we three, the twins, Ginny… We could still have fun –'

'You don't have to pity me,' said Harry, again too hastily, he didn't understand why was he that clumsy with words, he didn't intend it in a malicious way either. 'I mean… I don't feel like partying. In the end I think I like this way best.'

Ron opened his mouth to speak but he never made it to muster the words; something hit the house hard on one side and next the floor started shaking making a gross sound of wood cracking. Dust came down from the ceiling.

Earthquake? was only what Harry could think of as he tumbled to one bed post; Ron almost fell off the bed where he was kneeing, Hermione went backwards until meeting Ron's wardrobe. Harry tried standing but fell back to the bed again – Ron made it to the end of his own and reached the wardrobe, which was rattling madly and seemed about to crush Hermione – Ron pushed the furniture with one hand, succeed in quiet it somehow, and tried reaching Hermione. For a moment Harry thought she wasn't going to take Ron's hand out of fear.

Then Harry heard someone call '_Tornado!_' and saw outside the window what seemed like fireworks flying – when looking at his left again, Hermione had already jumped on Ron's bed and was gesturing Harry towards them. Harry got a notion of someone calling his name though the deafening sound of the wind –

A glass broke.

SLAM!


End file.
